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A  Iii\g.^D< 
Aroimd 
Tffe  World 


Arouivd 


BY 

RUTH  K.  MIDDLETON 


Published  by 

GEO.  RICE  &  SONS 

LOS  ANGELES 


DEDICATED 
TO  MY  HUSBAND 
WHO  MADE  IT  POSSIBLE 


2091369 


The    Plaza    Hotel,    New    York. 
December    10,    1909 

THE    DAY    BEFORE    WE    SAILED 

After  a  very  busy  day  we  are  about  to  retire.  I 
happen  to  go  to  the  desk,  where  there  is  a  postal  which 
Mr.  Middleton  has  written  to  a  friend.  It  reads: 
"Dear  Andy: — We  sail  for  Italy.  Goodby!  George." 

DECEMBER  llth 

My  good  husband  and  I  sailed  today  on  the  Berlin. 
It  is  a  beautiful  boat,  new,  and  very  large;  capacity, 
twenty  thousand  tons;  two  hundred  and  fifty  state- 
rooms. Mr.  and  Mrs.  Anderson  brought  us  to  the 
boat  in  a  Lozier.  It  is  such  a  comfortable  wagon  to 
ride  about  in,  that  we  felt  very  large,  indeed.  While 
on  the  boat,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Havlin  arrived,  bringing 
half  a  dozen  love  stories  to  while  away  the  hours. 
In  our  stateroom  were  bunches  of  American  Beau- 
ties, tied  with  beautiful  green  ribbon,  from  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Anderson;  a  "Bon  Voyage"  basket  from  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Albee,  filled  with  choice  fruits  and  candies 
and  two  pints  of  wine,  rare  vintage;  many  tele- 
grams, wishing  us  a  pleasant  journey.  We  started 
well  and  happy. 

THREE  HOURS  OUT 

We  seem  to  be  good  sailors.  But  as  the  boat  leaves 
the  shore,  I  experience  a  sensation  that  I  shall  never 
forget;  to  feel  the  vessel  gently  moving  away,  while 
the  band  plays  national  airs  makes  one  understand  the 


6  A    LINE    A    DAY 

meaning  of  "Home,"  our  native  land,  and  its  many 
ties.  The  patriotic  chain  lengthens  as  the  boat  drifts 
out  to  sea. 

SECOND  DAY  OUT 

The  weather  is  beautiful,  the  sea  is  smooth,  and  the 
boat  most  comfortable.  We  have  slept  remarkably 
well,  and  are  enjoying  the  beautiful  roses,  while  so  far 
we  have  not  missed  a  meal.  We  have  Mr.  Batonyi, 
the  late  husband  of  Mrs.  Burke-Roche,  on  board. 
Also  U.  S.  Grant,  Jr.,  and  family.  I  begin  to  feel  that 
I  am  going  to  make  a  great  sailor.  I  am  reading  the 
"Love  Stories  of  Great  Men  and  Women,"  a  delight- 
fully interesting  book,  a  pleasure  I  owe  Mrs.  Havlin. 

THIRD  DAY  OUT 

It  is  very  rough,  and  I  have  kept  to  my  cabin  all 
day.  We  made  three  hundred  and  sixty  miles  the  first 
day;  the  second  day  three  hundred  and  forty-eight. 
While  this  is  a  large,  beautiful  boat,  she  rocks  some. 
This  is  her  seventh  trip;  she  made  her  maiden  trip 
the  first  of  May.  There  are  some  nice  points  about 
her,  they  say,  but  I  have  not  found  them.  The  basket 
of  fruit  has  saved  my  life — I  have  been  unable  to  eat 
anything  for  two  days. 

THE  SAILOR 

He  tosses  on  the  silvery  deep 

From  early  morn  till  late, 
With  not  a  care  save  to  eat  and  sleep : 

The  jolly  sailor  and  his  mate — 
But  the  sailor's  life  is  not  for  me! 

FOURTH  DAY  OUT 

In  the  cabin  another  day — and  so  is  almost  everyone 
else  aboard.  My  cabin  companion,  who  is  an  old  sea 
dog,  is  a  little  groggy.  (This  is  typical  sailors'  talk, 
easily  understood  by  "jolly  jack  tars.")  It  has  been 


AROUNDTHEWORLD  7 

decidedly  rough,  and  we  had  a  very  hard  night.  I  have 
concluded  that  I  am  a  land  sailor.  I  am  like  the  little 
boy  in  the  adjoining  cabin,  who  has  been  very  ill  for 
two  days.  He,  like  myself,  had  a  great  admiration  for 
the  boat  the  first  day,  but  as  he  has  been  in  his  berth, 
and  cannot  get  out,  he  lies  and  moans:  "Oh,  boat, 
what  is  the  matter  with  you!"  We  have  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McCormick,  Mr. 
Rockefeller's  relatives.  We  made  three  hundred  and 
fifty-eight  miles  today. 

FIFTH  DAY  OUT 

Another  day  in  bed.  Very  rough.  Mr.  Middleton 
keeps  going  and  brings  all  the  news  down  to  me.  Oh, 
how  this  boat  rolls !  Like  the  clown,  I  want  to  get  off 
and  walk.  Tomorrow  we  pass  the  Azores  Islands. 
We  did  three  hundred  and  sixty-seven  miles  today. 
The  wind  is  blowing  a  terrible  gale.  While  not  so  ill 
as  I  have  been,  I  do  not  seem  to  get  my  sea  legs.  Mr. 
Middleton  looks  like  a  jolly  jack  tar,  with  his  cap  on 
his  ear,  and  his  debonair  manner.  We  passed  some 
sailing  vessels  today.  It  is  quite  an  event  at  sea 
merely  to  see  something  moving  in  the  distance. 

SIXTH  DAY  OUT 

The  weather  is  delightfully  calm,  and  the  salt  air  is 
very  refreshing.  We  are  up  on  der-k,  and  feeling  fine. 
The  waves  are  large,  and  beautiful  to  see.  Mr. 
Middleton  helped  me  to  dress  this  morning.  I  found 
him  a  very  good  maid.  It  is  so  restful  to  lie  here  in  the 
steamer  chair,  wrapped  in  robes,  listening  to  the 
swish  of  the  water,  communing  with  one's  self,  through 
the  sweet  and  happy  memories  of  the  past  few  years, 
measuring  life's  sorrows  with  life's  joys,  to  find  that 
at  last  they  balance. 

SEVENTH  DAY  OUT 

The  weather  is  more  agreeable.  It  is  a  joy  to  live. 
All  the  passengers  seem  to  have  taken  heart  again. 


8  A    LINE    A    DAY 

There  is  more  activity  everywhere,  and  more  mirth 
and  conversation  on  all  sides.  We  passed  the  St. 
Michael  Islands  today  about  noon;  a  magnificent 
panorama.  The  small  white  houses  looked  like  doll 
houses.  These  islands  are  inhabited  by  Spanish  and 
Portuguese.  One  could  see  the  tiny  vegetable  gardens, 
and  cultivated  spots  on  the  sides  of  the  mountains.  It 
must  be  very  difficult  to  raise  anything  in  a  region 
so  very  rocky  and  mountainous.  We  did  three  hun- 
dred and  ninety-five  miles  today.  This  boat  can  do 
four  hundred  and  fifty.  I  am  beginning  to  get  my  sea 
legs.  My  dear  old  sea  mate  has  never  missed  a  meal, 
and  becomes  the  ship  wherever  you  put  him. 

EIGHTH  DAY  OUT 

The  weather  fine,  and  the  sea  smooth.  We  have 
made  some  delightful  friends.  We  exercise  each  morn- 
ing in  the  "gym"  by  riding  a  wooden  horse.  We  are 
going  to  have  lunch  on  deck.  (They  say  that  this 
boat  cost  $3,500,000  to  build,  equip,  and  get  into 
commission.)  We  sighted  a  sailing  vessel  today,  like 
a  bird  in  the  distance. 

NINTH  DAY  OUT 

A  quiet  day.  We  landed  at  Gibraltar  four  hours 
late,  which  was  rather  depressing.  We  visited  a  little, 
and  worried  the  day  through.  We  sighted  four  ships 
today,  and  noted  St.  Vincent's  Point,  whence 
Christopher  Columbus  sailed.  We  can  see  a 
monument  erected  in  his  honor. 

TENTH  DAY  OUT 

We  arose  very  early  this  morning  to  go  ashore  at 
Gibraltar — our  first  day  on  land.  We  went  on  deck 
at  five- thirty  to  see  the  run  rise.  (I  have  written 
elsewhere  how  it  impressed  me.)  We  went  ashore  in  a 
tender.  Gibraltar  is  just  a  huge  rock.  But  it  is 
wonderful.  Its  formation  is  so  strange,  and  the  people 


AROUND    THE     WORLD  9 

so  picturesque,  with  their  quaint  customs.  Spanish  is 
the  native  tongue.  It  is  an  English  army  station — 
soldiers  on  every  side,  arrayed  in  scarlet  coats  and  blue 
trousers,  with  queer  little  Tommy  Atkins  sticks,  quite 
"  swagger,"  I  assure  you.  The  discipline  on  this  rock 
is  very  severe.  For  example:  An  American  boy, 
twenty  years  of  age,  was  confined  for  eighteen  months 
in  the  old  Moorish  castle  used  as  a  prison,  for  stealing 
a  loaf  of  bread.  He  was  released  today,  and  great 
excitement  prevails  everywhere. 

The  gates  leading  into  Spain  are  closed  every  night 
at  ten  o'clock,  and  no  one  is  permitted  to  pass.  There 
are  strange  ruins  of  Moorish  castles  all  over  this 
region. 

We  have  had  a  strange  little  companion  pattering 
along  with  us  for  about  two  hours — a  Spanish  boy 
tramp,  bare-footed  and  ragged,  with  his  dear  little 
round  face,  and  roguish  dancing  eyes.  Our  whole 
hearts  went  out  to  him — poor  little  man,  without 
love,  without  sympathy,  without  home.  It  was  really 
very  hard  to  leave  him. 

A  visit  to  the  market  is  extremely  interesting.  It  is 
conducted  by  Moors.  The  single  men  wear  pure  white 
robes;  the  married  ones  red  and  black.  These  robes 
are  similar  to  those  worn  by  the  monks  a  thousand 
years  ago.  They  are  cut  like  a  bath  robe,  with  a 
cord  around  the  waist,  and  an  immense  hood  on  the 
back.  They  remind  one  forcibly  of  the  ad.  for  St. 
Jacob's  oil.  Priests  stand  around  each  booth  at  the 
market,  blessing  the  purchases,  at  this  period  of  the 
year,  which  is  their  holiday  time.  Across  the  street — 
which  is  just  a  path — dry  goods,  fruit,  meat  and  china 
are  sold.  The  men  who  handle  the  turkeys  and  pigs 
are  queer  vendors.  They  drive  their  produce  around  in 
droves  from  door  to  door,  or  from  one  customer  to 
another  in  the  street.  Each  vendor  has  his  flock  of 
pigs  or  chickens  marked  with  a  different  colored  paint 
on  their  feathers;  some  will  have  a  cross  on  the  back 
of  the  fowl  or  pig,  others  have  just  a  dab  of  gaudy 


10  ALINEADAY 

colored  paint.  The  vendor  drives  them  with  a  queer 
little  shepherd's  crook,  which  is  painted  to  match  the 
color  of  his  wares.  You  take  your  choice  of  these 
fowls  or  pigs,  and  get  them  home  as  best  you  can. 

We  visited  an  old  public  park  here,  and  admired  the 
quaint  old  trees,  some  of  them  more  than  two  thousand 
years  old,  and  the  beautiful  shrubbery  and  flowers. 
In  this  park  some  of  the  shrubs  are  trimmed  to 
represent  a  lion,  the  coat-of-arms  of  England,  and  the 
monogram  of  the  King  of  England,  cut  on  the  day  he 
visited  the  city,  in  1806. 

Mr.  Middleton  bought  some  cigars  here  from  a  man 
who  owns  a  remarkable  performing  cat.  This  animal, 
yellow  and  white  striped,  is  chained  like  a  dog  in  front 
of  the  cigar  store.  He  is  very  smart,  and  seems  to 
understand  everything  you  say  to  him.  He  is  the 
trade  mark  of  the  store,  and  is  known  the  world  over, 
as  so  many  boats  stop  here  each  year,  and  their  pas- 
sengers stroll  up  and  down  this  street,  the  main  street 
of  the  city. 

We  are  returning  to  our  home — the  Berlin.  It  is 
now  luncheon  time,  and  we  both  are  very  tired  and 
hungry.  We  intend  to  sit  on  deck,  and  view  the 
harbor  of  Gibraltar.  Many  boats  and  schooners,  very 
quaint  old  vessels,  no  longer  used,  are  lying  about  and 
give  the  harbor  a  most  picturesque  appearance. 

As  our  boat  starts  to  sea  we  leave  the  Atlantic  and 
enter  the  Mediterranean.  All  day  we  will  be  able  to 
see  the  northern  coast  of  Africa.  The  day  is  perfect, 
as  we  sail  on.  It  is  very  quiet — only  the  musical 
swish  of  the  waves  breaks  the  silence.  The  color  of 
the  water  has  at  last  changed  to  the  Mediterranean 
blue.  I  have  been  waiting  for  this  all  along.  It  is  a 
peculiarly  deep  blue,  unlike  any  shade  I  have  ever 
seen  before.  All  is  very  placid  and  restful  as  we  drift 
along,  admiring  the  many  pretty  changes  in  the  sky. 
The  sun  begins  to  sink  to  rest,  and  a  mysterious  light 
brightens  the  east.  It  is  a  glorious  Mediterranean 
sunset — a  sight  long  to  be  remembered.  The  colors 


A  ROUND    THE    WORLD  11 

change  from  opal  to  red — a  brilliant,  fiery  red;  then 
fade  to  a  lovely  amethyst;  from  violet  to  a  soft,  dark 
smoky  blue,  while  strange  and  wonderful  cloud 
formations  appear — trees,  lakes,  mountains,  writhing 
dragons,  and  the  sun,  an  immense  disc  of  fire,  rolls 
slowly  downward.  Involuntarily,  we  hope  for  the 
golden  gates  to  open,  and  admit  us  to  that  mysterious 
great  beyond.  In  this  gorgeously  beautiful  sunset 
we  can  almost  see  the  regal  splendor  of  that  other 
world. 

ELEVENTH  DAY  OUT 

Another  beautiful  day,  quiet,  and  very  warm.  We 
have  read,  and  passed  the  day  pleasantly.  Sighted 
a  boat  from  Algiers.  We  were  very  close  to  her — 
within  half  a  mile.  The  northern  shore  of  Africa  has 
been  visible  all  day.  The  sea  has  been  as  smooth  as  a 
mirror,  with  a  clear  blue  sky.  The  sunset  is  like  the 
day — quiet,  with  subdued  coloring,  and  we  closed  our 
eyes  with  a  rested  feeling. 

TWELFTH  DAY  OUT 

The  day  began  with  a  fog — our  first  fog,  and  a  very 
heavy  one.  We  passed  the  Island  of  Sardinia,  where 
the  finest  sardines  originally  came  from,  lying  off  the 
west  coast  of  Italy.  We  arrive  at  Naples  in  the 
morning. 

DECEMBER  23 

We  land  at  Naples  early — eight  a.  m.,  and  very 
foggy.  We  can  see  the  outline  of  wicked  old  Vesuvius 
in  the  distance,  and  the  city  between  the  hills.  The 
bay  of  Naples  is  indeed  a  beautiful  bay — considered 
the  most  beautiful  in  the  world.  The  points  of  land 
protruding  far  out  make  it  a  most  peaceful  water  to 
welcome  the  storm-tossed  vessels,  and  rest  their 
weary  passengers.  Such  a  sight  greets  the  home- 
coming Italians — with  all  their  friends  and  relatives 
to  welcome  them!  The  men  talk  wildly,  and  claw 


12  ALINEADAY 

each  other,  while  the  poor  women,  in  their  gay  attire, 
weep  and  moan.  The  customs'  officers  add  to  the 
picture,  in  their  brilliant  uniforms  of  Italian  blue,  with 
bright  stripes  on  the  trousers,  and  queer  little  stiff 
caps,  adorned  with  a  bright  yellow  ornament, 
resembling  a  goat's  beard,  upside  down. 

We  went  through  the  customs  with  very  little 
trouble,  got  our  baggage,  and  departed  for  the 
Bertolini  Palace  Hotel.  This  hotel  is  built  on  a  moun- 
tain, overlooking  the  superb  bay,  and  down  on  lovely 
villas  and  gardens.  It  is  an  extremely  quiet  place. 
There  are  two  excellent  restaurants  here. 

Beneath  the  windows  of  our  room  is  a  large  grape 
fruit  tree,  with  grape  fruit  on  it  as  large  as  a  foot  ball; 
oranges,    tangerines,    flowers    of   every    variety,    and 
beautiful    warm    sunshine    on    the    twenty-third    of 
December.    The  poet  well  describes  this  region  as  the 
"Land  of  Love,  Song,  and  Art! 
Sunny,  sunny  Italy!" 

After  a  little  bustling  about  with  our  trunks  we  are 
ready  to  start  on  a  trip  around  Naples.  We  have 
visited  the  coral  shops  and  the  shell  shops.  We  ride  up 
and  down  the  beautiful  hills,  and  visit  the  old  palace 
of  the  king,  in  all  its  splendor — high  ceilings,  thick 
walls  and  colonnades, covered  with  silk  and  tapestry, 
rare  of  color  and  weave,  exquisite  marbles,  paintings, 
and  a  real  throne  wrhere  kings  in  ancient  times  have 
sat  in  state. 

We  are  having  our  Christmas  dinner  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Messing,  of  Chicago.  Wre  dine  very  quietly, 
and  dance  afterward,  with  thoughts  of  home  and  its 
loved  ones.  Tomorrow  is  Sunday,  a  day  of  rest; 
I  am  thankful  for  it,  as  we  have  been  in  quite  a  whirl. 
We  had  luncheon  late,  and  started  for  a  ride  around 
the  bay  in  the  victoria.  A  beautiful  sight,  and  a 
most  delightful  day,  very  warm.  We  had  tea  on  the 
veranda  overlooking  the  harbor.  We  are  taking  the 
train  in  the  morning  at  eight  o'clock  for  Pompeii, 
where  we  arrive  after  a  two  hours'  journey. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  13 

Pompeii — a  city  of  ruins,  destroyed  A.  D.  79.  We 
found  the  city  very  small,  built  on  the  side  of  a  hill, 
with  Mt.  Vesuvius  towering  over  it,  a  little  to  the  east, 
ten  or  twelve  miles  distant.  This  city  has  been 
completely  covered  for  almost  two  thousand  years. 
Some  of  it  has  been  unearthed — we  should  judge 
about  one-fourth,  and  they  are  still  working  on  it  each 
day.  It  is  a  very  slow  process.  The  pillars  and  walls 
still  stand — a  ghastly  sight.  Two  thousand  people 
were  buried  in  the  ruins;  the  rest  fled.  But  their 
marvelous  works  of  art  remain,  just  in  patches; 
mosaics  in  wonderful  colorings,  some  executed  in 
shells,  others  in  marble;  statues  and  exquisite  frescoes 
on  the  walls.  The  House  of  Vetti  is  especially  inter- 
esting. Signer  Vetti  was  a  bachelor  of  great  wealth 
and  eccentric  artistic  tastes.  The  frieze  in  his  dining 
room  is  in  a  state  of  perfect  preservation.  Grapes, 
fruits  of  all  kinds,  and  fish,  are  realistically  painted 
in  this  frieze,  with  little  nude  figures  here  and  there; 
gracefully  beautiful  dancing  women,  and  men  of 
strength  and  athletic  build  adorn  the  walls.  Carved 
marble  vases,  and  a  bath  tub  of  solid  onyx  are  among 
the  luxuries  of  this  most  sumptuous  home. 

In  the  ruins  is  a  theatre,  horseshoe  shaped.  It  was 
supposed  to  seat  ten  thousand  people.  On  their  gala 
days,  they  lowered  an  immense  awning  over  the 
audience,  and  over  the  little  boxes  where  sat  the  chosen 
few.  The  ruins  of  the  Forum  and  Municipal  Baths 
are  most  interesting.  The  great  large  chambers  are 
almost  perfect,  with  their  marble  slabs  and  swimming 
pools,  and  the  hot  rooms  separated  by  very  thick 
walls  were  surely  luxurious,  indeed.  It  is  supposed 
that  these  baths  were  conducted  very  much  like  the 
high  class  gentlemen's  clubs  of  today.  These  baths 
were  a  rendezvous  for  the  idle  rich,  whither  they  went 
in  the  afternoon,  about  four  o'clock,  to  take  their 
bath,  to  smoke,  to  chat  of  the  great  events  of  the  day, 
and  then  go  to  their  respective  homes  for  dinner. 
There  were  many  such  baths  throughout  the  city  of 


14  ALINEADAY 

Pompeii,   different    prices    for  the   different    classes. 

Much  of  this  city's  wonderful  art  is  lost.  Their  art 
of  making  mosaics  of  shells,  as  well  as  their  beautiful 
shades  of  red  and  blue.  A  gentleman,  whose  name  is 
supposed  to  have  been  Baer,  had  a  mosaic  bear  in  his 
doorway,  leading  into  his  garden  with  its  marble 
fountains. 

We  took  a  train  from  Pompeii  to  La  Cava,  where 
we  passed  the  night.  Sunday  afternoon  we  drove  up 
the  village  to  a  monastery  on  the  mountain,  known  as 
the  Benedictine  Monastery,  almost  two  thousand 
years  old.  The  monks  were  known  as  the  Benedictine 
monks,  an  order  long  since  extinct.  Here  are  cata- 
combs, where  the  crowned  heads  for  centuries  have 
been  buried.  There  are  pyramids  of  bones  and  skulls 
— a  ghastly  spectacle.  We  descended  the  stairs  below 
the  church,  where  the  keeper,  by  the  light  of  a  small 
kerosene  lamp,  showed  us  where  the  bodies  were  put 
in  vaults  to  decay,  and  the  bones  removed  and  stacked 
like  cord  wood,  to  make  room  for  more. 

We  drove  from  La  Cava  to  Amalfi,  a  distance  of 
thirty  miles,  a  beautiful  drive,  winding  around 
Sardinia  Bay.  So  picturesque:  passing  miles  of 
lemon  trees,  oranges  and  olives,  with  the  mountains 
in  the  distance  and  the  sea  below.  We  were  three 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea  almost  all  the  way  around. 
We  stopped  at  another  monastery  belonging  to  the 
government  of  Italy.  It  is  now  a  hotel,  the  Capucina. 
We  climbed  one  hundred  and  eighty-two  steps.  I  was 
carried  up  in  a  Sedan  chair,  one  of  the  luxuries  of  the 
whole  trip.  The  view  from  this  hotel  was  a  picture. 
This  is  a  very  small  village — one  might  almost  call 
it  a  deserted  village — three  thousand  of  its  people 
having  emigrated  to  America  at  one  time.  The  nouses 
with  the  doors  and  windows  gone  give  the  place  such 
a  neglected  look  that  one  feels  that  nobody  is  at  home. 
Longfellow  wrote  a  beautiful  poem  to  this  city.  We 
spent  a  night  and  day  here,  and  then  on  our  way  to 
Sorrento. 


A  ROUND    THE    WORLD  15 

AMALFI 
BY  LONGFELLOW 

Sweet  the  memory  is  to  me 

Of  a  land  beyond  the  sea, 

Where  the  waves  and  mountains  meet. 

Where,  amid  her  mulberry  trees 

Sits  Amalfi  in  the  heat, 

Bathing  ever  her  white  feet 

In  the  tideless  summer  seas. 

In  the  middle  of  the  town, 
From  its  fountains  in  the  hills, 
Tumbling  thro*  the  narrow  gorge, 
The  Canneto  rushes  down, 
Turns  the  great  wheels  of  the  mills, 
Lifts  the  hammers  of  the  forge. 

'Tis  a  stairway,  not  a  street, 
That  ascends  the  steep  ravine, 
Where  the  torrent  leaps  between 
Rocky  walls  that  almost  meet. 
Toiling  up  from  stair  to  stair, 
Peasant  girls  their  burdens  bear; 
Sunburnt  daughters  of  the  soil, 
Stately  figures  tall  and  straight, 
What  inexorable  fate 
Dooms  them  to  this  life  of  toil? 

Lord  of  vineyards  and  of  lands 
Far  above  the  convent  stands. 
On  its  terraced  walk  aloof 
Leans  a  monk  with  folded  hands; 
Placid,  satisfied,  serene, 
Looking  down  upon  the  scene 
Over  wall  and  red-tiled  roof; 
Wondering  unto  what  good  end 
All  this  toil  and  traffic  tend, 
And  why  all  men  cannot  be 
Free  from  care  and  free  from  pain, 


16  ALINEADAY 

And  the  sordid  love  of  gain, 
And  as  indolent  as  he. 

Where  are  now  the  freighted  barks 
From  the  marts  of  east  and  west? 
Where  the  knights  in  iron  sarks, 
Journeying  to  the  Holy  Land, 
Glove  of  steel  upon  the  hand, 
Cross  of  crimson  on  the  breast? 

Where  the  pomp  of  camp  and  court? 
Where  the  pilgrims  and  their  prayers? 
Where  the  merchants  with  their  wares, 
And  their  gallant  brigantines 
Sailing  safely  into  port 
Chased  by  corsair  Algerines? 

Vanished  like  a  fleet  of  cloud, 
Like  a  passing  trumpet  blast 
Are  those  splendors  of  the  past, 
And  the  commerce  and  the  crowd! 
Fathoms  deep  beneath  the  seas 
Lie  the  ancient  wharves  and  quays, 
Swallowed  by  the  engulfing  waves. 
Silent  streets  and  vacant  halls, 
Ruined  roofs  and  towers  and  walls; 
Hidden  from  all  mortal  eyes 
Deep  the  sunken  city  lies: 
Even  cities  have  their  graves! 

This  is  an  enchanted  land! 
Round  the  headlands  far  away 
Sweeps  the  blue  Salernian  bay, 
With  its  sickle  of  white  sand; 
Further  still,  and  furthermost 
On  the  dim  discovered  coast 
Paestum  with  its  ruins  lies; 
And  its  roses  all  in  bloom 
Seem  to  tinge  the  fatal  skies 
Of  that  lovely  land  of  doom. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  17 

On  his  terrace,  high  in  air, 
Nothing  doth  the  good  monk  care 
For  such  worldly  themes  as  these; 
From  the  garden  just  below 
Little  puffs  of  perfume  blow, 
And  a  sound  is  in  his  ears 
Of  the  murmur  of  the  bees 
In  the  shining  chestnut  trees; 
Nothing  else  he  sees  or  hears. 
All  the  landscape  seems  to  swoon 
In  the  happy  afternoon; 
Slowly  o'er  his  senses  creep 
The  encroaching  waves  of  sleep; 
And  he  sinks  as  sank  the  town, 
Unresisting,  fathoms  down, 
Into  caverns  cool  and  deep! 

Walled  about  with  drifts  of  snow. 
Hearing  the  fierce  north-wind  blow, 
Seeing  all  the  landscape  white, 
And  the  river  cased  in  ice, 
Comes  this  memory  of  delight, 
Comes  this  vision  unto  me 
Of  a  long-lost  Paradise, 
In  the  land  beyond  the  sea. 

NAPLES,  February  18,  1883. 

Beautiful,  clean  Sorrento — the  home  of  the  Sorrento 
lemon.  The  drive  was  most  picturesque,  and  the 
people  more  so,  and  their  manner  of  living,  with 
always  an  eye  to  the  beautiful,  brilliant  coloring,  and 
romance.  The  shops  are  small  and  interesting.  We 
looked  about  a  little.  Sorrento  is  noted  for  a  peculiar 
hand-made  lace,  made  in  a  convent  here;  Italian 
baby  ribbon,  and  inlaid  wood,  which  are  works  of  art. 
We  stopped  at  the  Hotel  Tramontano.  Sorrento  is 
the  birthplace  of  Torquato  Tasso,  the  Italian  poet. 
We  visited  the  room  in  which  the  poet  was  born,  one  of 
the  show  places  of  the  city.  The  town  simply  hangs 


18  A    LINE    A    DAY 

on  a  rock  overlooking  the  Mediterranean.  Here  the 
people  are  cleanly,  move  about  more  quietly,  and  on 
the  whole  are  very  much  more  refined  than  elsewhere. 
One  hears  charming  voices — there  are  many  street 
singers  here — and  not  any  beggars.  This  is  very 
noticeable,  as  Italy  is  noted  for  its  beggars. 

There  are  many  pretty  villas  here,  and  beautiful 
Italian  gardens,  but  all  these  do  not  appeal  to  us  like 
these  hotels  hanging  here  on  the  rock,  with  the 
wonderful  blue  water  below.  The  sky  seems  to  fairly 
blend  with  the  water.  I  fancy  anyone  could  write 
who  lived  here  awhile.  In  the  distance  we  can  see  the 
roof  of  the  villa  belonging  to  the  American  novelist, 
Francis  Marion  Crawford. 

From  here  we  take  a  small  boat  to  go  to  the  Island  of 
Capri. 

Capri  is  a  huge  rock.  Nearly  two  thousand  years 
ago  Tiberius  took  refuge  here,  after  his  resignation  as 
Emperor  of  Rome.  He  came  with  a  portion  of  his 
army  and  built  twelve  castles,  one  for  each  of  his 
eleven  gods  and  one  for  himself,  the  ruins  of  which 
still  stand.  From  here  on  a  clear  day  it  is  possible  to 
see  Naples,  Sorrento,  Castel  Maggiore.  We  visited 
the  ruins  of  the  baths  of  Tiberius,  three  thousand  feet 
above  sea  level,  accessible  to  travelers  only  by  means 
of  donkeys. 

The  streets  of  Capri  are  very  narrow,  in  fact  they 
are  mere  paths.  The  vendors  sell  wares  of  all  kinds 
from  donkeys'  backs.  The  ladies  of  fashion  ride  in 
two-wheeled  carts  drawn  by  very  small  burros  or 
little  Italian  ponies.  These  Italian  ponies  are  very 
fat,  with  funny  little  short  legs,  long  manes  and  tails, 
long  necks,  and  very  curious  little  heads.  The  Island 
of  Capri  has  no  telephone  or  telegraph  offices,  and  no 
street  cars,  the  only  place  like  it  in  the  world.  Physi- 
cians from  all  parts  of  the  globe  send  their  patients 
here  to  convalesce.  There  is  a  very  comfortable 
hotel,  called  the  Quisiciana.  Here  also  is  the  wonder- 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  19 

ful  estate  of  Krupp,  the  German  gun-manufacturer. 
It  is  a  beautiful,  reposeful  spot. 

We  have  spent  three  days  here,  including  New 
Year's  Eve.  We  wished  the  old  year  out  and  the  new 
year  in  with  a  bottle  of  the  famous  old  Capri  wine. 
We  are  leaving  Capri  for  Naples,  which  we  consider 
home.  It  is  a  very  rough  crossing,  and  a  very  choppy 
sea,  three  hours  over.  We  receive  our  first  American 
mail  on  our  arrival.  We  rest  a  couple  of  days  and 
are  then  ready  for  a  drive  around  the  city. 

We  visited  the  museum  and  the  aquarium.  Here 
I  saw  my  first  live  octopus.  It  is  a  huge  creepy 
monster,  horrible  to  behold,  with  legs  angling  in  every 
direction.  The  aquarium  in  Naples  is  the  finest  in 
the  world.  There  are  funny  little  horse  fish  here, 
just  the  shape  of  a  horse,  with  queer  little  tails;  also 
trunk-fish,  in  the  exact  form  of  a  trunk,  with  a  most 
curious  little  head  and  tail;  and  an  air  fish,  which 
blows  itself  up  to  a  huge  size,  and  then  gradually 
dwindles  down  again  to  the  size  of  a  mere  minnow. 

After  once  more  making  our  baggage  into  small 
bundles  we  are  leaving  Naples  for  Rome,  on  a  most 
extraordinary  little  tramway.  One  feels  sorry  for  the 
engine  and  the  stingy  little  coaches. 

After  being  bumped  almost  to  death,  we  at  last 
arrive  in  Rome,  the  Eternal  City,  with  its  seven 
hundred  and  forty-two  churches,  each  one  finer  than 
the  other.  Rome  is  built  on  seven  hills,  every  spot  of 
which  is  rich  in  historic  associations.  After  having 
been  destroyed  three  times  by  fire,  and  in  wars  with 
other  nations,  she  stands  today  all  glorious,  a  clean, 
modern  metropolis — a  city  of  art,  containing  many, 
many  treasures  that  are  priceless ;  three  great  churches 
—the  principal  one  St.  Peter's,  in  the  Vatican  garden. 
It  is  a  rich,  beautiful  edifice,  with  its  paintings, 
splendid  marbles,  and  wonderful  sculptured  figures. 
The  tomb  of  St.  Peter,  in  gold  and  bronze,  with 
candles  burning  before  it  all  the  time;  the  high  altar, 
in  bronze  and  gold,  draped  in  matchless  Venetian 


20  ALINEADAY 

Point  lace;  the  tombs  of  the  many  popes,  long  since 
passed  to  the  great  beyond — all  forms  so  massive,  so 
grand,  so  stately  a  picture  that  it  strikes  one  with  awe, 
mingled  with  grief  that  such  fabulous  wealth  should  be 
squandered  on  this  place,  with  such  dreadful  poverty 
on  every  hand.  The  church  was  started  about  the 
twelfth  century,  and  has  been  rebuilt  several  times. 

ST.  PETER'S  CATHEDRAL 

In  front  of  the  church  is  the  Piazza  San  Pietro,  or 
St.  Peter's  Square,  in  the  form  of  an  ellipse,  enclosed 
by  a  stately  colonnade.  In  the  center  of  the  square  is 
an  obelisk,  brought  from  the  ruins  of  Heliopolis, 
centuries  ago,  and  placed  in  its  present  location  in 
1586.  To  the  left  and  right  of  this  monument  are  two 
handsome  fountains,  dating  from  the  Sixteenth  cen- 
tury. On  the  balustrade  at  the  top  of  the  colonnade 
are  sixteen  statues  of  saints. 

This  cathedral,  the  seat  of  Roman  Catholic 
Christendom,  was  founded  by  Constantine  the  Great, 
over  the  grave  of  the  Apostle  Peter,  supposedly  in 
326.  In  1452,  the  building  having  fallen  into  dis- 
repair, Pope  Nicholas  V.,  decided  to  rebuild  it  from 
designs  by  a  noted  Florentine  architect. 

From  this  date  until  1626,  the  building  progressed 
slowly  under  various  pontiffs,  and  the  original  plans 
were  frequently  changed,  as  the  work  was  entrusted 
to  different  architects.  The  most  famous  of  them  all 
was  Michael  Angelo.  His  greatest  achievement  was 
the  dome,  which  is  a  marvel  of  lightness,  in  spite  of  its 
enormous  size.  He  did  not  live  to  see  it  completed, 
but  left  plans  and  drawings,  by  means  of  which  other 
architects  were  enabled  to  carry  out  his  design. 

The  building  was  finally  consecrated  by  Pope 
Urban  VIII.,  on  the  eighteenth  of  November,  1626, 
the  alleged  thirteen  hundredth  anniversary  of  its 
foundation.  The  last  architect  was  Bernini,  who 
constructed  the  colonnade  surrounding  the  Piazza. 
The  area  of  the  church  is  eighteen  hundred  square 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  21 

yards,  and  the  height  of  the  dome  is  four  hundred  and 
thirty-seven  feet. 

The  facade,  with  its  Corinthian  columns  and  pillars, 
is  approached  by  a  stately  flight  of  steps.  From  the 
balcony  over  the  main  entrance,  it  was  customary  at 
Easter  time  for  the  pope  to  bestow  his  benediction  on 
the  city  and  the  whole  world.  In  the  richly  decorated 
portico  are  two  statues  of  Charlemagne  and 
Constantine  the  Great,  respectively.  Columns  of 
colored  marble  separate  the  five  doors  of  the  church. 
The  Brazen  Doors  of  the  main  entrance  date  from  the 
Fifteenth  century,  while  the  one  furthest  right,  the 
Porta  Santa,  or  Holy  Portal,  is  only  opened  on  the 
occasions  of  Jubilee,  once  every  twenty-five  years. 

The  interior  is  impressive,  not  only  by  its  vast 
size,  but  the  admirable  symmetry  of  its  proportions. 
On  the  pavement  of  the  nave  is  a  slab  of  porphyry 
that  formerly  lay  before  the  high  altar  in  the  ancient 
church,  and  upon  which  many  famous  emperors 
knelt  to  receive  their  diadems,  among  them 
Charlemagne,  who  was  crowned  in  800,  the  first 
ruler  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  of  the  West.  By 
the  first  two  pillars  are  two  large  holy  water  basins. 
St.  Peter's  contained  very  few  pictures,  and  most  of 
them  have  been  replaced  by  mosaics.  Near  the 
fourth  pillar  to  the  right  is  the  sitting  statue  of  St. 
Peter,  in  bronze,  said  to  date  from  the  Fifth  century. 
The  right  foot  has  been  worn  smooth  by  the  kisses  of 
devotees. 

The  mighty  dome  soaring  heavenward  over  the  high 
altar,  and  the  crypt,  where  the  body  of  the  Apostle 
lies,  floods  the  whole  interior  with  light.  The  four 
huge  pillars  supporting  it  are  adorned  with  statues 
of  the  various  saints,  and  mosaics  of  the  evangelists. 
The  sixteen  ribs  of  the  dome  are  of  richly  gilded  stucco, 
and  in  the  spaces  between  are  four  series  of  mosaics 
representing  the  Savior,  the  Virgin,  the  Apostles,  and 
at  the  top,  God  the  Father. 

The  magnificent  high  altar,  at  which  the  pope  alone 


22  ALINEADAY 

reads  mass,  was  consecrated  in  1594,  and  over 
it  is  a  splendidly  gilded  tabernacle,  surmounted 
by  a  dome  and  a  cross,  designed  by  Bernini.  In 
front  of  the  high  altar  is  the  Confessio,  en- 
closed by  a  balustrade,  with  eighty-seven  lamps 
that  burn  eternally,  into  which  a  double  staircase 
descends  to  the  , gilded  bronze  doors  of  the  crypt 
where  the  body  of  St.  Peter  rests.  Between  the  two 
flights  of  steps  is  a  statue  of  Pius  VI  in  prayer,  by  the 
comparatively  modern  sculptor,  Canova.  The  nave 
extends  beyond  the  dome,  ending  in  the  tribune, 
containing  the  bronze  throne  which  encloses  the 
ancient  wooden  episcopal  chair  of  St.  Peter.  In  the 
various  chapels  are  the  tombs  of  the  different  pontiffs, 
some  simple,  others  magnificent. 

The  left  transept  contains  confessionals  for  ten 
different  languages.  By  the  pillar  of  Santa  Veronica, 
on  the  left,  is  the  elevated  seat  from  which  the  Grand 
Penitentiary  dispenses  absolution  on  high  festivals. 
The  remains  of  one  of  the  earliest  Italian  composers, 
Palestrina,  repose  in  a  plain  tomb,  in  front  of  the  high 
altar.  A  gray  marble  portal  leads  to  the  sacristy, 
containing  paintings  by  Giotto,  fragments  of  once 
beautiful  frescoes  and  the  Treasury. 

The  choir  chapel  is  richly  decorated  with  gilt  and 
stucco,  and  grand  musical  festivals  are  frequently 
held  on  Sundays.  An  extensive  view  may  be  obtained 
from  the  dome,  and  of  the  interior  from  the  galleries, 
inside  the  vaulting. 

The  comparison  between  this  dazzling  splendor  and 
the  dreadful,  sordid  poverty  of  the  deluded  wretches 
who  have  crawled  in  the  dust  for  centuries  to  build  and 
sustain  it,  the  helpless  prey  of  the  crafty,  unscrupu- 
lous priests,  who  take  advantage  of  their  ignorance 
and  superstition,  which  they  take  care  to  foster  and 
encourage,  to  extort  their  few  miserable  pennies,  on 
one  pretext  or  another:  this  comparison,  even  in  the 
midst  of  so  much  grandeur,  cannot  but  entail  sad  and 
painful  reflections. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  23 

St.  Paul's  is  another  very  beautiful  church,  more 
modern  and  not  nearly  so  massive  as  St.  Peter's.  It  is 
out  of  the  city  about  a  mile  and  a  half,  erected  on  the 
spot  where  St.  Paul  was  decapitated.  We  drove  out 
by  the  same  old  road  along  which  he  passed.  The 
church  has  forty-two  granite  pillars,  and  two  hundred 
and  forty-five  magnificent  mosaic  medallions,  each 
one  of  which  cost  between  five  and  six  thousand 
dollars.  It  was  first  built  in  the  Sixteenth  century, 
and  has  been  destroyed  and  rebuilt  during  the  last 
two  hundred  years,  but  is  not  completed  yet. 

THE  VATICAN 

Adjoining  the  cathedral,  the  Supreme  Pontiff,  the 
Vicar  of  Christ  on  earth,  is  housed  in  a  splendid 
palace  containing  some  thousand  rooms  and  apart- 
ments and  twenty  courts.  The  greater  part  of  the 
building,  however,  is  taken  up  by  state  apartments 
and  priceless  collections  of  works  of  art,  ancient  and 
modern. 

Among  the  most  noteworthy  is  the  Sistine  Chapel, 
with  the  ceiling  painted  by  Michael  Angelo,  depicting 
the  Creation,  the  Fall,  and  the  Hope  of  Redemption. 
On  the  altar  wall  is  the  colossal  Last  Judgment,  by 
the  same  artist,  which  is  now  badly  blackened  by 
incense.  Other  rooms  are  adorned  with  frescoes 
which  are  among  the  finest  productions  of  the  great 
Raphael.  Among  the  treasures  of  the  Vatican  is 
Raphael's  Tapestry,  executed  in  Brussels,  from 
designs  drawn  by  Raphael,  in  1515.  It  is  now 
much  faded,  and  was  originally  intended  to  cover 
the  lower  walls  of  the  Sistine  Chapel. 

The  picture  gallery  contains  but  few  pictures  but 
some  of  them  are  superb.  The  Collection  of  Antiqui- 
ties is  the  finest  in  the  world,  and  occupies  many 
apartments.  There  is  an  Egyptian  collection,  and  an 
Etrurian  Museum,  containing  bronzes,  pottery,  do- 
mestic utensils,  terra  cotta  statuary,  from  ancient 


24  A    LINE    A    DAY 

Etruria,  the  modern  Tuscany,  where  Florence  has 
long  been  the  seat  of  Italian  culture. 

Greek  sculptors  of  all  ages,  from  the  Archaic  to  the 
Golden,  are  represented.  Among  the  most  famous 
works  are  the  beautiful  Apollo  Belvedere,  the  bust  of 
Jupiter,  from  Otricoli,  the  well  known  Discobolus,  or 
Discus  Thrower,  and  the  celebrated  Laocoon  group, 
so  enthusiastically  admired  by  Michael  Angelo. 

The  Vatican  gardens  are  delightful,  with  graveled 
walks,  green  lawns,  dotted  with  statuary,  and  the  deep 
refreshing  shade  of  the  beautiful  old  trees. 

THE  DOUBLE  DOME 

The  octagonal  double  dome  of  the  Duomo,  or 
cathedral,  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  Florence,  and  its 
construction  by  the  noted  architect  Brunelleschi,  in 
the  Fifteenth  century,  marked  the  beginning  of  a  new 
era  in  architecture.  Apparently  without  any  support, 
the  two  domes  tower  gracefully  some  three  hundred 
feet,  one  inside  the  other,  with  space  enough  between 
for  a  passage  way. 

When  the  plans  were  submitted,  the  architect  was 
thought  to  be  mad,  and  he  only  triumphed  after 
innumerable  difficulties:  bickerings  and  petty  jeal- 
ousy of  incompetent  rivals,  disappointments,  lack  of 
money,  and  strikes  among  his  workmen.  The  dome 
was  the  first  of  its  kind  ever  built,  and  was  considered 
an  impossible  feat.  The  finest  domes  prior  to  this,  that 
of  the  Pantheon,  and  St.  Sophia,  at  Constantinople, 
had  been  designed  for  their  interior  effect  alone;  but 
this,  with  its  graceful  ribs,  is  almost  more  beautiful 
seen  from  without,  as  it  rises  high  over  all  the  adjacent 
buildings. 

The  ribs  and  lower  part  are  of  hewn  stone,  the 
upper  part  of  a  lighter  quality,  the  thickness  of  the 
walls  diminishing  as  they  approach  the  graceful 
lantern  which  crowns  it. 

At  one  time  the  architect,  noticing  the  time  lost 
by  the  artisans  in  descending  for  their  meals,  placed 
cooking  stalls  in  the  dome  itself.  Only  wine  diluted 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  25 

with  water  was  allowed  to  go  up,  however,  owing  to 
the  danger  of  serious  fatalities  when  the  workmen 
were  in  a  too  jovial  mood. 

When  designs  were  submitted  for  the  lantern,  in  a 
public  contest,  after  endless  disputes,  they  decided  to 
accept  the  plan  of  the  man  who  would  prove  his 
ability  by  standing  an  egg  erect  on  a  marble  slab. 
All  tried  and  failed,  until  it  came  the  turn  of 
Brunelleschi,  whom  they  were  all  trying  to  defeat.  He 
succeeded;  the  other  competitors,  deeply  chagrined, 
declared  they  could  have  done  as  much. 

"Doubtless,"  retorted  the  architect,  "as  you  could 
build  another  church,  after  seeing  my  dome!" 

The  first  stone  was  laid  about  1420,  and  the  cathe- 
dral was  consecrated  in  1467.  It  is  the  crowning  glory 
of  "Firenze  la  Bella,"  Florence  the  Beautiful,  or,  as 
the  city  is  more  often  designated,  the  Lily  of  the 
Arno,  from  the  lilies  in  the  Florentine  coat  of  arms. 

The  principal  drive  of  Rome  is  by  the  Corso  and  the 
Piazza  to  Pincion  Hill,  the  newest  and  most  beautiful 
residence  district  of  Rome.  A  portion  of  this  hill,  the 
lovely  grounds,  and  public  park  once  belonged  to  the* 
influential  Borghese  family.  Napoleon's  favorite 
sister,  Pauline,  married  Prince  Camillo  Borghese. 
The  Art  Gallery  was  open.  It  is  filled  with  original 
and  interesting  works  of  art — the  paintings  of  Van 
Dyke,  Rembrandt,  Michael  Angelo,  and  others. 

We  stopped  at  the  Excelsior  Hotel,  across  the  street 
from  the  royal  palace.  The  shops  are  very  small,  but 
stocked  with  noveltes.  We  bought  some  silver 
filagree  work  in  this  city,  where  one  gets  the  finest  in 
the  world.  Rome  is  noted  for  its  beautiful  work  in 
silver,  as  well  as  marbles,  bronzes,  and  paintings.  We 
visited  a  large  church  in  Rome,  known  as  the  Church 
of  St.  Augusta,  where  mothers  come  to  pray  to  the 
Holy  Virgin  to  increase  their  families. 

There  are  always  many  women  here,  kissing  the  foot 
of  St.  Augusta,  giving  her  presents,  and  their  few 
miserable  pennies.  St.  Augusta  is  a  very  stately 


26  ALINEADAY 

statue,  seated  in  a  chair  of  bronze,  holding  a  little  gold 
infant  in  her  arms.  She  is  a  very  rich  lady,  having 
many  costly  gifts  adorning  her  neck  and  arms,  mostly 
jewelry,  while  a  little  money  box  to  the  right  helps  to 
keep  the  priests  fat  and  sleek.  The  following  story  is 
told  of  St.  Augusta:  A  mother  was  in  great  anxiety 
and  prayed  to  be  delivered — let  any  believe  this  who 
will — when  St.  Augusta  spoke,  saying  to  her,  "Go 
home;  your  baby  will  be  born  to  you  in  a  very  short 
time!"  And  in  a  short  time  the  baby  came  into  the 
world,  and  all  was  well.  This  is  why  St.  Augusta  is  so 
popular  with  about-to-be  mothers. 

We  leave  today  for  Florence.  The  weather  is  rainy, 
but  warm.  We  are  most  anxious  to  see  what  Florence 
is  like.  We  will  stop  at  the  Grand  Hotel  de  la  Ville. 
We  find  Florence  delightfully  interesting — so  quiet, 
so  clean,  and  so  artistic.  Here  I  feel  my  first  tinge  of 
homesickness.  W7e  rest  one  day,  and  I  find  myself 
in  fancy  traveling  back  home.  Antiquated  in  every 
way  is  Florence.  There  is  more  true  art,  more 
genuine  culture  and  refinement  here  than  in  any  other 
city  in  Italy.  It  has  the  largest  cathedral  in  the 
world — of  purely  Gothic  design  throughout — espe- 
cially noted  for  its  wonderful  double  dome.*  They 
were  conducting  a  service  when  we  visited  it,  singing 
weird  chants  and  burning  myriads  of  candles,  making 
the  place  most  impressive. 

Across  the  street  is  the  Baptistry.  The  wonderful 
bronze  doors  are  the  most  beautiful  in  the  world.  Th  > 
oldest,  executed  by  Andrea  Pisano,  dating  from  1330, 
is  composed  of  twenty-eight  panels  in  relief,  the  first 
twenty  of  which  depict  in  exquisite  workmanship  the 
life  of  John  the  Baptist  from  his  birth  to  the  presenta- 
tion of  his  head  on  a  salver  to  Salome,  the  daughter  of 
Herodias.  The  eight  lower  panels  represent  the 
cardinal  virtues. 

The  second  door  (the  north  portals),  executed  in  the 
years  from  1403  to  1424,  is  the  work  of  the  Florentine 
goldsmith,  Ghiberti.  The  twenty  upper  panels 

*See  Addenda 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  27 

illustrate  the  life  of  the  Savior,  and  the  eight  lower 
ones  represent  the  four  evangelists  with  their  symbols. 
The  workmanship  is  much  superior  to  the  first  door. 

The  east  portals  occupied  Ghiberti  during  the  last 
years  of  his  life,  and  represent  scenes  from  the  Old 
Testament — some  of  the  most  marvelous  pictures 
ever  cast  in  bronze.  Michael  Angelo  said  they  were 
beautiful  enough  to  be  the  portals  of  Paradise. 

The  streets  of  Florence  are  very  narrow,  mere 
alleys,  but  they  are  very  clean,  and  give  the  place 
a  quaint  picturesque  appearance  in  every  detail. 
Small  shops  everywhere,  of  every  kind,  on  every  side. 
We  visited  the  mosaic  factory,  where  they  make 
beautiful  mosaics  of  precious  stones,  shells,  marble, 
etc.  They  inlay  these  mosaics  in  black  marble.  It  is 
very  effective.  They  design  roses,  lilies-of-the-valley, 
morning  glories,  figures  of  people,  dancing  scenes,  etc. 
These  are  costly  table  tops,  of  every  size. 

We  have  had  a  ride  in  the  park,  and  a  most  delight- 
ful one.  One  sees  many  splendid  horses  here,  mostly 
brought  from  Russia.  Very  much  larger  horses  are 
used  here  for  driving  than  in  any  other  country.  I  am 
told  it  is  for  show,  large  horses  being  so  much  more 
attractive,  and  making  so  much  more  noise.  They 
do  not  give  such  good  service  as  the  smaller  horses. 
One  sees  a  few  automobiles,  mostly  Fiats  and  Renaults. 
There  are  many  handsome  Italian  women  here,  but 
the  men  just  seem  to  hang  about,  and  slouch  along, 
until  one  gets  lonesome  for  the  sight  of  a  man  with 
the  American  stir  and  hustle.  All  Florence  seems  to 
turn  out  on  Sunday,  on  the  Piazza,  di  Strozzi.  The 
silver  shops  here  are  quite  as  interesting  as  those  of 
Rome.  We  had  made  to  order  a  hand  carved  fish  set, 
which  we  hope  to  use  and  enjoy  for  many  years  to 
come,  as  we  are  both  so  fond  of  fish.  The  lace  shops 
on  every  side  fascinate  me  beyond  words.  Last,  and 
most  beautiful  of  all,  Mr.  Middleton  has  given  me  for 
my  birthday  a  Carrara  Marble  bust  of  himself,  life 
size,  for  which  he  sat  one  hour  each  dav  for  two 


28  ALINE    A    DAY 

weeks.  I  go  with  him  to  keep  him  company,  and  find 
it  most  enjoyable.  We  had  a  ride  to  Michael  Angelo 
Square — a  most  lovely  cultivated  spot,  overlooking 
Florence,  where  a  large  and  artistic  monument  stands, 
adorned  with  five  of  his  best  figures — his  David, 
Night  and  Day,  Dawn  and  Twilight,  superb  figures, 
two  men  and  two  women,  very  muscular,  as  are  all 
of  the  works  of  this  great  artist  and  sculptor. 

The  Uffizi  Gallery,  built  in  the  Fourth  century, 
with  additions  made  in  the  Thirteenth  and  Sixteenth, 
contains  a  splendid  collection  of  masterpeices  of 
painting  and  sculpture.  Here  stands  the  famous 
Venus  di  Medici,  considered  by  many  connoisseurs  of 
art  more  perfect  and  more  beautiful  than  the  Venus  de 
Milo.  Madonnas  by  the  old  masters  are  beautifully 
hung  in  a  room  by  themselves;  another  room  is 
devoted  to  Rubens,  Rembrandt,  Van  Dyke,  etc. 
French,  German,  Spanish  and  Italian  painters  are 
paid  every  compliment.  Their  own  portraits,  painted 
by  themselves,  are  hung  in  a  very  large  room. 

The  celebrated  Pitti  Gallery  was  once  a  private 
home,  built  by  Luca  Pitti,  in  an  effort  to  outshine  the 
Medici  family,  the  rulers  of  Florence  in  that  day. 
But  after  he  had  built  and  completed  this  wonderful 
palace,  Cosmo  di  Medici  sent  him  word  to  sell  it  to 
him  at  once,  or  he  would  take  it.  It  has  ever  since 
belonged  to  royalty,  and  is  now  the  home  of  the  present 
king  when  in  Florence,  and  is  an  Art  Gallery  as  well. 
We  visited  the  church  of  San  Lorenzo  where  Michael 
Angelo's  famous  statues  of  Night,  Day,  Dawn  and 
Twilight  adorn  the  tombs  of  the  two  young  princes 
Lorenzo  and  Giuliano  di  Medici.  To  understand  the 
four  figures  it  must  be  remembered  that  in  Italian, 
Night  and  Dawn  are  feminine,  Day  and  Twilight 
masculine.  "Night"  is  considered  by  many  connois- 
suers  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  works  of  art  of  all 
time.  The  sight  of  that  profound,  yet  breathing 
slumber  involuntarily  imposes  silence  on  the  beholder. 
It  seems  as  though  a  loud  noise  would  waken  her. 


AROUND     THE    WORLD  29 

It  is  the  sleep  of  Sorrow,  while  Dawn  rises  slowly  and 
heavily — the  awakening  of  grief.  The  male  figures  are 
majestic  in  Michael  Angelo's  ponderously  beautiful 
style.  The  groups  were  originally  intended  to  express 
the  profound  grief  for  the  death  of  the  two  young 
princes,  but  in  the  course  of  political  events  the 
statues  were  associated  in  the  minds  of  the  great 
sculptor  and  his  countrymen  with  the  loss  of  Florentine 
liberty.  This  is  evident  from  the  inscription  he 
attached  to  the  figure  of  Night :  "  I  sleep,  and  it  is  well 
that  I  am  of  stone,  since  shame  and  dishonor  are  in  the 
midst  of  us." 

We  bid  good-bye  to  Florence.  It  has  a  strange 
fascination  for  both  of  us.  We  can  truthfully  say 
that  we  hope  to  return  some  day. 

We  leave  tomorrow  morning  for  Venice.  It  is 
snowing  in  Florence  as  we  pack.  We  had  seen  the 
snow  all  around  the  city,  on  the  mountains,  but  today 
it  is  our  guest — the  first  for  sixteen  years  they  say. 
Leaving  Florence  for  Venice  we  travel  all  day  through 
a  very  pretty  country,  with  small  farmhouses  on  the 
hills,  or  young  mountains.  Two  hours  before  reaching 
the  city  we  find  water  on  each  side  of  us,  and  soon  we 
see  the  vague  outlines  of  Venice  in  the  distance.  We 
arrived,  were  put  in  a  gondola — an  exquisite  master- 
piece of  handcarving,  but  oh,  so  uncomfortable  and  so 
dirty!  Just  plain  dirt,  in  true  Venetian  style.  We 
reached  our  hotel — it  took  one  hour,  in  the  cold,  raw 
night.  We  were  huddled  together;  very  little  was 
said,  as  it  was  so  chilly  and  a  cold  yellow  moon  peeped 
out,  trying  to  warm  up  our  romantic  spirits.  After 
splashing  through  the  cold  water,  bobbing  first  to  one 
side  and  then  to  the  other,  we  arrived  at  our  hotel — 
the  Bauer  and  Grumald.  We  discovered  that  our 
gondolier  was  full  of  red  Chianti,  and  had  an  assistant 
equally  so.  They  sang  not  a  note,  only  begged  for 
more  money.  They  were  overpaid  forty  cents.  We 
found  the  hotel  fairly  comfortable — if  a  European 
hotel  can  be  comfortable. 


30  ALINEADAY 

We  started  out  to  see  Venice  next  morning.  This 
city  is  built  entirely  over  the  water,  on  piles  driven 
into  the  sandy  bottom  of  the  Adriatic  Sea.  It  dates 
back  to  350  B.  C.  The  pages  of  its  history  are  red 
with  crime,  positively  written  in  blood.  All  artistic 
charm  is  lost  when  one  reads  and  hears  of  so  many 
barbarous  acts.  The  cathedral  of  St.  Mark  is  a 
beautiful  example  of  Byzantine  architecture.  It  is 
in  the  form  of  a  Greek  cross,  with  five  domes,  and 
mosaics  dating  from  the  Fifth  to  the  Sixteenth  cen- 
turies. The  bones  of  St.  Mark  are  said  to  rest  under 
the  high  altar  of  gold,  brought  from  Alexandria,  Egypt, 
in  857. 

Napoleon  I,  the  King  of  Spain,  Don  Carlos,  and 
many  other  famous  personages,  including  Lord  Byron 
and  Browning,  have  had  homes  on  this  Grand  Canal, 
the  boulevard  of  Venice.  These  dwellings  are  in 
typical  Venetian  style;  the  automobile  is  the  gondola 
and  the  street  car  the  steamboat.  While  here  we  saw 
a  funeral  on  the  water. 

The  Doge's  Palace  contains  many  masterpieces  of 
art — paintings,  statuary,  and  the  famous  golden  stairs. 
They  are  not  of  gold,  but  of  marble,  designed  by 
Sannino.  They  received  the  name  of  the  golden 
stairs  from  the  fact  that  only  royalty  walked  on  them 
in  the  early  days.  The  history  of  this  palace  fairly 
reeks  in  crime,  cloaked  by  religion. 

THE  DUCAL  PALACE 

The  palace  of  the  Doges  is  a  beautiful  example  of 
Gothic  architecture,  built  mainly  of  rose  and  white 
marble.  There  are  graceful  arcades  on  the  first  and 
ground  floors.  All  the  capitals  are  in  exquisite  taste 
and  endless  variety.  Not  one  is  a  repetition.  On  one 
of  the  facades  of  the  second  gallery  are  two  columns  of 
red  marble,  marking  the  place  where  sentences  of 
death  were  read.  The  courtyard  is  entered  through 
a  very  ornate  door,  and  we  ascend  by  the  Golden 
Stairs,  or  the  Giants'  Staircase,  so  called  from  two 


AROUND     THE    WORLD  31 

colossal  statues  of  Mars  and  Neptune,  standing  on 
pedestals  at  the  top  of  the  flight. 

The  immense  hall  of  the  Grand  Council  contains 
a  gigantic  picture,  "Paradise,"  by  Tintoretto,  the 
largest  picture  in  the  world.  This  splendid  painting 
covers  an  entire  wall,  but  the  once  brilliant  coloring  is 
sadly  darkened  by  time.  Paintings  representing 
episodes  in  the  history  of  Venice  and  portraits  of  all 
the  Doges  adorn  the  walls.  In  one  corner  is  a  black 
and  empty  frame  that  once  held  the  portrait  of 
Marino  Faliero,  beheaded  in  the  courtyard  below  for 
treason  to  the  republic.  In  the  Hall  of  the  Shield  the 
coat  of  arms  of  the  ruling  Doge  was  emblazoned.  The 
walls  are  hung  with  curious  geographical  charts 
illustrating  the  discoveries  of  Marco  Polo,  and  other 
noted  Venetian  explorers.  The  waiting  room  of  the 
ambassadors  contains  four  great  paintings  by 
Tintoretto,  and  one  of  the  finest  works  of  the  great 
Paolo  Caliari  of  Verona,  and  commonly  called  Paolo 
Veronese.  This  is  the  "Rape  of  Europa,"  a  mytho- 
logical subject,  showing  the  abduction  of  Europa  by 
Jupiter,  disguised  as  a  bull.  In  this  same  apartment  is 
the  "Marriage  of  Bacchus  and  Ariadne,"  one  of  the 
most  admired  works  of  Tintoretto,  and  showing  the 
influence  of  Titian. 

In  the  Salla  della  Bussola,  from  the  bussola,  or 
screen,  that  stood  before  one  of  the  main  doors,  is  the 
slit  once  covered  by  the  lion's  head,  into  the  mouth  of 
which  denunciations  were  placed.  It  was  the  letter  box 
of  the  dreaded  Council  of  Ten,  and  is  an  important 
feature  in  Ponchielli's  beautiful  opera  "La  Gioconda." 

In  the  archeological  museum  is  a  varied  and  interest- 
ing collection  of  Roman  antiquities,  bronzes,  gold 
coins,  and  Greek  pottery.  This  part  of  the  palace  was 
once  occupied  by  the  private  rooms  of  the  Doges,  and 
recent  alterations  have  disclosed  two  secret  staircases 
leading  to  the  alcove  where  the  bed  was  placed.  At 
the  head  and  foot  are  two  panels  which  could  be 
opened,  should  it  be  deemed  necessary  to  spy  on  the 


32  ALINEADAY 

movements  of  the  ruler  of  the  Most  Serene  Republic. 

A  narrow  passage  leads  to  the  famous  Bridge  of 
Sighs,  uniting  the  Palace  to  the  gloomy  and  unwhole- 
some prison,  where  so  many  luckless  malefactors  and 
political  prisoners  perished. 

In  Venice  there  are  almost  a  hundred  churches. 
Among  the  most  beautiful,  after  the  celebrated 
Byzantine  cathedral  of  St.  Mark,  which  I  have 
described  elsewhere,  is  the  church  of  Santa  Maria 
della  Salute,  Our  Lady  of  Health,  built  to  commemo- 
rate the  cessation  of  the  plague  in  the  Seventeenth 
century.  Of  course,  as  Ruskin  says,  it  is  dedicated  to 
the  Virgin,  to  whom  the  modern  Italian  has  recourse 
in  all  his  principal  distresses,  and  who  usually  receives 
his  gratitude  for  all  his  principal  deliverances.  This 
is  one  of  the  most  imposing  edifices  in  Venice,  and  the 
airy  dome,  rising  from  the  misty  sea,  is  the  first 
thing  to  be  discerned  by  the  approaching  traveler. 
It  contains  a  fine  altar  piece,  some  beautiful  candel- 
abra, and  some  fine  paintings  by  Titian. 

On  the  quay  are  the  two  huge  granite  columns, 
brought  from  Constantinople,  on  one  of  which  is  the 
winged  Lion  of  St.  Mark,  the  emblem  of  Venice,  and 
on  the  other  St.  Theodore,  another  patron  saint, 
slaying  a  crocodile. 

The  Rialto  is  the  finest  bridge  in  Venice,  and  spans 
the  canal  with  a  single  bold  and  elegant  curve.  Two 
rows  of  shops,  separated  by  an  arcaded  portico,  occupy 
the  sides  of  the  bridge,  which  is  almost  ninety  feet 
wide.  Some  of  the  oldest  houses  in  Venice  are  in  this 
vicinity,  where  there  is  an  endless  tumult  of  shipping 
and  gondolas,  and  small  craft  drying  their  gaudy  sails. 

Every  type  of  architecture  is  represented  by  the 
time-honored  palaces  that  line  the  Grand  Canal,  their 
once  brilliant  coloring  dimmed  by  time,  and  stained 
by  the  waves — Gothic,  Roman,  Greek,  Byzantine, 
Saracen  and  Rococo.  This  canal  is  a  picture  gallery 
in  the  open,  where  the  art  of  seven  or  eight  centuries  is 
spread  out  before  the  traveler. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  S3 

Here  is  the  Ca'  d'Oro,  short  for  Casa  d'Oro,  or 
House  of  Gold,  the  front  all  embroidered  and  laced 
with  open  stone  work,  in  patterns  of  inconceivable 
lightness.  Another  is  the  Vendramini  Palace,  where 
Richard  Wagner  died  in  1883.  The  interior  contains 
many  precious  and  beautiful  marbles.  The  Mocenigo 
Palace,  where  Byron,  that  ardent  lover  of  Venice,  lived 
in  1818;  and  the  Palazzo  Rezzonico,  where  Robert 
Browning  died  in  1889.  Many  of  these  noble  monu- 
ments of  a  glorious  past  are  now  hotels  or  municipal 
buildings.  Most  of  the  famous  Venetian  families  are 
extinct.  Of  the  nine  hundred  patrician  families 
inscribed  in  the  Golden  Book,  only  some  fifty  remain. 

In  days  of  old  a  curious  and  gorgeous  ceremony  was 
performed  every  year,  when  the  doge  went  forth  in  a 
magnificent  gallery  called  the  Bucentaur,  to  cast  a  gold 
ring  into  the  waters  of  the  Adriatic,  thus  espousing  the 
sea  in  the  name  of  the  Republic. 


0  Venice!     Venice!     When  thy  marble  walls 
Are  level  with  the  waters,  there  shall  be 

A  cry  of  nations  o'er  thy  sunken  halls, 
A  loud  lament  along  the  sweeping  sea! 

In  Venice  Tasso's  echoes  are  no  more, 
And  silent  rows  the  songless  gondolier; 

Her  palaces  are  crumbling  to  the  shore, 
And  music  meets  not  always  now  the  ear. 

Those  days  are  gone — but  Beauty  is  still  here: 
States  fall,  arts  fade — but  Nature  doth  not  die, 

Nor  yet  forget  that  Venice  once  was  dear 
The  pleasant  place  of  all  festivity, 
The  revel  of  the  earth — the  masque  of  Italy! 

— LORD  BYRON. 


Today  is  my  birthday,  January  thirtieth.  Somehow 
or  other,  of  all  the  days  that  come  and  go,  I  never  lay 
claim  to  any,  or  feel  that  it  is  my  very  own,  save  this 
one.  We  are  now  on  the  train,  enroute  to  Genoa.  It  is 


34  A     LINE    A     DAY 

a  rainy  Sunday.  We  land  at  Genoa  in  a  pouring  rain. 
It  has  rained  all  day  Monday — we  are  waterbound  and 
have  not  been  able  to  see  anything  of  the  small  city. 

Genoa,  called  of  old  "the  Superb,"  occupies  a 
splendid  site  on  sunny  slopes  rising  from  the  shores  of 
the  Mediterranean  in  a  wide  semicircle,  and  is  the  most 
important  seaport  of  Italy.  It  is  the  seat  of  a  well- 
known  university,  an  archbishopric,  and  is  also  the 
headquarters  of  the  Fourth  Italian  Army  corps.  It  is 
one  of  the  oldest  seaports  on  the  Mediterranean,  and 
first  came  into  political  prominence  after  overthrowing 
the  naval  power  of  Pisa  in  the  Thirteenth  century.  By 
her  activity  in  the  Crusades,  Genoa  built  up  a  busy 
trade  with  the  countries  of  the  Orient,  established 
important  settlements  in  Syria,  Cyprus,  Constanti- 
nople, etc.,  and  even  threatened  the  commercial 
supremacy  of  Venice  in  the  Adriatic  until  defeated  by 
the  Venetians,  under  the  famous  Carlo  Zeno  and 
Vettoro  Pisani,  in  the  battle  of  Chioggia,  in  1380. 

For  many  years  the  government  was  a  republic, 
under  an  elective  Doge,  like  her  great  rival  Venice,  but 
her  power  steadily  declined  during  the  endless  civil 
and  foreign  wars  that  followed  up  to  the  earlier  years 
of  the  Nineteenth  century.  The  city  is  interesting  to 
Americans  as  the  birthplace  of  Christopher  Columbus. 
In  the  center  of  the  town  is  his  statue.  It  is  easy  to 
understand  Columbus  being  restless,  and  desirous  of 
discovering  something  else  than  this  dirty  little  Italian 
village. 

From  Genoa  to  Nice  and  the  Riviera  proper  is  a 
most  delightful  trip,  along  the  Mediterranean  coast, 
with  Mentone,  Grasse,  Cannes,  Monte  Carlo,  Bellevue, 
Villa  Francaise,  and  many,  many  other  charming 
villages  built  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  Nice  and 
Monte  Carlo  are  the  most  beautiful.  We  went  to  live 
at  the  Hermitage  Hotel,  a  comfortable  place  in  a 
charming  spot,  on  a  mountain  overlooking  the 
Mediterranean.  We  are  so  glad  to  stop  and  rest. 
The  weather  is  very  pleasant,  but  one  can  wear  heavy 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  85 

clothing  and  furs  with  great  comfort.  There  is  an  auto 
running  from  the  hotel  to  the  city  four  times  a  day, 
making  it  very  convenient. 

We  joined  a  club,  the  Municipal  Casino,  the  second 
day  in  Nice.  Another  popular  diversion  is  promenad- 
ing each  morning  on  the  Promenade  Anglaise,  a  very 
interesting  walk,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  long.  So 
many  people  stroll  here  each  morning:  Americans, 
Germans,  Englishmen,  Frenchmen,  Italians,  Rus- 
sians, Bohemians,  Hungarians,  Indians,  Japanese  and 
Negroes,  making  it  the  most  cosmopolitan  crowd  in 
the  world,  all  walking  along  enjoying  the  surf  in  the 
months  of  December,  January,  February  and  March. 
Some  of  these  people  are  in  furs,  wrapped  as  though 
they  were  ready  to  freeze,  others  in  summer  hats  and 
white  serge  suits.  One  sees  a  variety  of  parasols,  of 
every  color  and  style.  They  are  a  picture  to  look  at 
as  they  bob  along.  Of  the  dogs  from  every  country, 
the  French  poodle  is  without  doubt  the  most  beauti- 
ful. Large  dogs,  small  dogs,  dogs  with  manners,  fancy 
blankets,  leather  and  fur  collars,  jeweled  collars,  fancy 
robes  and  muzzles  of  every  description,  belonging  to 
rich  people  from  all  over  the  world.  They  always 
lead  them  on  a  leash.  In  all  the  parks  and  public 
places  is  this  notice:  "  Je  vous  prie,  portez-vous  votre 
chien  en  lasso!"  which  always  amused  my  husband 
greatly. 

Nice  is  a  small  place,  and  quite  old,  dating  back 
some  three  hundred  and  sixty  years.  It  is  situated 
at  the  foot  of  the  Maritime  Alps,  protected  by  them 
from  the  severe  cold  in  winter,  but  I  imagine  it  to  be 
the  hottest  place  on  earth  in  summer.  We  have  had 
a  beautiful  drive  to  Flacon,  an  old  village  up  in  the 
mountains,  over  a  charming  road,  winding  round 
many  picturesque  curves.  We  took  this  drive  in  a 
gorgeous  blue  satin  lined  carriage,  with  a  spanking 
pair  of  horses.  We  felt  quite  king-y  and  queen-y. 

Flacon  is  a  small  village.    An  old  castle  stands  here 


36  ALINEADAY 

where  Napoleon  I  lived  at  the  time  he  built  the  lower 
Cornice  Road  for  his  army. 

The  shops  are  splendid.  Nice  and  Monte  Carlo  are 
the  homes  of  the  original  toilettes.  In  reality,  the 
season  starts  here.  One  sees  well  groomed  women  on 
every  occasion. 

Monte  Carlo  is  the  garden  spot  of  the  world.  It  is  a 
small  strip  of  land  owned  by  the  Prince  of  Monaco  and 
is  called  a  principality  and  lies  between  Italy  and 
France.  One  might  describe  it  better  by  saying  that  it 
is  a  garden — a  flower  garden,  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tains, made  perfect  by  man's  hand.  The  principal  streets 
are  veritable  flower  beds,  with  lovely  flowers  of  every 
description,  and  borders  of  every  imaginable  shape, 
lighted  at  night  with  colored  electric  lights,  making 
it  indeed  very  effective.  The  few  shops,  the  many 
hotels,  and  the  gambling  clubs  make  up  this  city  of  so 
much  comment.  People  from  all  over  the  world  come 
here.  Beautiful  women  in  their  original  toilettes  and 
rich  men  complete  the  place. 

We  go  from  Nice  to  Monte  Carlo  several  times  a 
week,  and  always  enjoy  it.  We  attended  a  fashionable 
Aux  Tirs  de  Petit  Pigeon,  or  pigeon  shoot,  a  very 
popular  event.  Pretty  women  and  titled  men  make 
up  the  select  crowd.  Lord  and  ladies,  counts  and 
countesses,  marquis  and  marquises,  barons  and 
baronesses,  were  among  the  attendants.  The  admis- 
sion is  $10  each.  However,  all  these  people  seem  to  be 
just  human  looking.  I  did  not  see  one  lord  or  count 
half  as  handsome  as  my  own  king.  We  have  royalty  at 
our  hotel — the  Archduke  of  Austria,  uncle  to  the 
present  king  of  Spain,  a  marquis  and  his  wife,  and  one 
of  the  Rothschild  multi-millionaires.  I  am  taking  a 
French  lesson  every  day,  and  am  growing  very  home- 
sick, and  heartily  tired  of  hotel  cooking.  My  French 
teacher  and  I  are  starting  out  to  find  a  furnished 
apartment.  We  have  decided  to  stop  here  two 
months,  as  it  is  cold  and  the  floods  are  very  bad  in  the 
north. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  37 

We  have  found  an  "  appartement  meuble  neuf" 
called  "Le  Grand  Palais  a  cote  du  Majestique," 
located  on  the  Boulevard  Cimez.  It  is  a  beautiful  and 
commodious  building,  handsomely  furnished  and 
strictly  up-to-date.  It  is  built  on  a  hill.  I  went 
straight  to  the  hotel  to  get  Mr.  Middleton  and  we 
shall  move  at  once. 

FEBRUARY  21 

We  are  packing,  about  to  go  to  housekeeping  in 
France.  We  are  delighted  with  the  idea.  It  is  great 
fun  to  go  to  market  and  make  all  the  purchases  in 
French.  As  I  drive  away  from  the  hotel  in  the 
victoria,  I  shall  ever  see  myself  in  fancy,  with  eight 
hat  boxes  and  many,  many  bags  and  sacks.  The 
victoria  is  so  small  and  the  boxes  so  large  that  you 
cannot  see  the  driver  and  can  hardly  see  me — only  the 
four  wheels.  When  we  are  about  ten  feet  past  Mr. 
Middleton  he  calls  out  to  me:  "I  will  see  you  later!" 
which  struck  me  as  being  funny,  since  he  could  hardly 
see  me  then  at  all.  Then  all  the  things  began  to  burst 
out  of  the  corners  of  the  boxes,  which  added  to  my 
distress  and  embarrassment. 

FEBRUARY  24 

We  are  comfortably  settled  in  our  new  apartment 
and  have  a  French  cook,  a  real  French  cook — and 
such  a  noisy  thing  as  a  "real  French  cook"  is! 

But  this  must  be  the  custom  in  France,  because 
when  I  say  anything  to  her  she  invariably  answers: 
"C'est  la  contume  en  France,  madame!"  We  have 
four  rooms  in  this  apartment — a  lovely  smoker,  a 
salle  a  manger,  a  chambre  a  coucher,  a  salle  du  bain, 
a  cuisine,  a  hall  cabinet.  It  is  beautifully  furnished 
and  so  complete.  We  shall  take  it  quietly  for  a  while. 
We  do  not  care  for  the  theatres,  as  we  do  not  like 
some  of  the  customs.  For  instance,  they  last  until 
one  a.  m.;  they  gamble  between  acts  for  an  hour, 


38  ALINE    A    DAY 

while  you  sit  and  wait  for  the  actors  to  come  back; 
they  all  champ  popcorn,  and  other  eatables  that 
crackle  during  the  performance,  and  every  once  in  a 
while  some  old  brother  with  a  deep  voice  screams  out 
"Bravo!"  and  one  nearly  jumps  out  of  his  skin. 

There  is  a  charming  public  park  here,  full  of  beauti- 
full  statuary  and  lovely  palms,  and  cork  trees,  many 
of  them.  I  admired  them  greatly — they  are  so  crooked 
and  queer,  with  such  an  old  bent  look,  and  they  grow 
without  a  leaf. 

A  river  runs  right  through  the  town  and  affords  a 
great  deal  of  amusement  to  the  tourists.  A  hundred 
or  more  women  wash  here  every  day,  and  in  a  most 
interesting  way.  They  wash  in  tubs  or  boxes  with 
rocks  in  the  bottoms  of  them,  using  a  stiff  brush  or  a 
rock  to  pound  the  clothes.  The  river  is  a  narrow 
stream,  and  they  work  on  their  knees,  grouped  along, 
one  after  another,  four  or  five  feet  apart,  even  on  the 
coldest  days.  These  women  wash  all  day  long,  with  a 
cake  of  soap  made  especially  for  this  water,  which  is 
very  hard,  indeed.  To  my  mind,  this  is  a  most 
barbarous  custom.  The  government  of  France  should 
be  ashamed  to  allow  these  poor  women  to  spend  entire 
days  washing  in  this  manner.  I  could  not  help 
thinking  of  our  self -run  water  motor  washing  machines, 
so  dear  to  the  American  housekeeper. 

MARCH  30 

We  are  all  packed,  after  two  months  pleasantly 
spent  here,  ready  to  proceed  to  Vienna.  We  have 
planned  a  trip  to  Japan,  to  sail  April  twenty-sixth, 
after  a  little  of  Germany,  Holland,  Paris  and  London. 
We  will  sail  from  Southampton  on  the  York,  hoping 
to  reach  home  July  first,  at  San  Francisco,  Cal. 

Our  last  day  in  Nice.  It  is  very  cold  and  a  heavy 
snow  lies  on  the  surrounding  mountains.  The  trunks 
have  just  left  and  the  apartment  looks  a  wreck.  \Ve 
depart  in  the  morning  at  ten  o'clock  for  Germany, 
hoping  to  have  a  clear  day  and  a  little  warmer  weather. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  39 

We  ride  for  two  days  and  one  night  in  a  funny  little 
toy  train  with  the  dignified  name  of  "de  Luxe."  We 
pass  over  some  beautiful  country  and  through  the 
mountains  into  Austria,  arriving  at  Vienna,  pro- 
nounced by  the  Germans  Wien,  which  means  "  City  of 
Wine."  There  are  many  vineyards  in  this  vicinity. 
The  city  is  very  old,  very  classic,  and  very  musical. 
Many  of  our  best  professors  of  music  come  from 
Vienna,  as  well  as  many  eminent  doctors  and  surgeons. 
We  have  had  a  delightful  ride  around  the  city.  The 
weather  is  very  spring-like,  and  all  the  people  appear 
to  be  working  in  their  gardens  or  cleaning  house. 
The  trees  are  budding  and  we  have  taken  a  new  lease 
on  life.  We  begin  to  feel  very  much  alive  again.  The 
king's  palace  is  an  imposing  edifice,  with  soldiers  in 
evidence  everywhere.  We  attended  the  opera  here 
and  heard  "  Chantecleer  "  in  German — a  delightful 
little  thing,  catchy  and  musical.  On  another  evening 
we  attended  the  circus,  where  we  saw  a  bull  fight — 
between  dogs  and  clowns.  One  dog  was  dressed  to 
represent  a  bull,  with  his  head  reversed — the  funniest 
sight  imaginable. 

We  stopped  at  the  Bristol  Hotel,  on  the  principal 
thoroughfare  of  the  city.  We  see  worlds  of  bronzes 
here,  gold  plate,  and  metal  sculptures,  far  too  many 
things  to  be  enumerated.  We  go  from  here  to  Dresden, 
the  city  of  art  and  china.  It  is  a  day's  run  from  Wien. 

Dresden  is  a  quaint  little  city,  very  up-to-date  and 
lively  with  so  much  manufacturing  activity  all 
around — porcelains,  brass,  copper  and  silverware. 
The  royal  art  gallery  is  as  fine  as  those  of  Florence  or 
the  Louvre;  Rembrandt,  Rubens,  Van  Dyke,  Titian, 
Murillo,  Rafael,  Guido  Reni,  are  represented;  also 
Beanhes,  a  modern  painter.  Here  we  purchased  some 
bronzes,  china  and  marbles.  I  enjoyed  a  delightful 
visit  to  the  old  Dresden  china  factory.  It  was  so 
instructive.  Here  I  bought  some  fancy  work  to 
match  the  china.  I  am  quite  in  love  with  Dresden. 
After  leaving  this  place  we  have  one  night  to  Berlin. 


40  ALINEADAY 

Mr.  Middleton  gets  along  well  with  his  little  German. 
It  is  so  amusing  to  hear  him  labor  with  it. 

BERLIN 

We  find  a  most  charming  city — a  modern  city  in 
every  way — splendid  buildings,  churches  galore,  and 
good  hotels.  We  stopped  at  one  of  the  most  comfort- 
able— the  Adlon,  where  we  met  Miss  Himes  and  her 
father,  who  were  our  chairmates  on  the  Berlin  coming 
over.  We  dine  and  take  a  motor  trip  all  over  the  city 
and  far  into  the  country,  where  spring  is  beginning  to 
waken  and  sturdy  old  trees  to  bud  out;  lovely  little 
farmhouses,  small  farms  and  picturesque  country 
houses.  A  spirit  of  perfect  contentment  seems  to 
hover  over  the  domestic  life  of  the  Germans.  The 
home  life  of  the  German  is  ideal — he  seems  to  live 
only  for  his  family,  his  wife  coming  first.  He  takes 
his  family  to  the  restaurants  with  him,  and  they  all  sit 
contentedly  together,  with  a  stein  of  beer  and  a  piece 
of  coarse  rye  bread,  even  in  the  better  cafes.  You 
will  always  find  the  German  with  his  family — so 
commendable  of  the  German. 

We  visited  the  palace  of  Frederick  the  Great  at 
Potsdam,  also  the  historic  mill.  For  two  days  after 
returning  to  the  hotel  we  had  rainy  weather  and  I  was 
glad  to  stay  abed  and  eat  my  first  civilized  food. 
Here  we  have  the  first  grape  fruit  of  the  season.  We 
had  this  luxury  once  this  winter  at  Nice,  where  we 
paid  forty  cents  for  a  very  small  one.  We  have 
decided  to  go  to  Cologne,  on  the  Rhine,  a  day's  run 
from  here. 

Cologne  is  a  very  quaint  and  primitive  city,  with 
its  stately  cathedral  built  from  400  to  600  A.  D.,  and 
finally  completed  in  1880.  The  wonderful  stained 
glass  windows  were  completed  in  the  Sixth  and 
Eighth  centuries.  The  art  of  coloring  this  glass  was 
lost  long  ago.  The  red  and  blue  of  these  windows  is 
beyond  description.  In  this  edifice  is  treasured  the 
staff  of  St.  Peter,  and  wood  from  the  cross  upon  which 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  41 

Jesus  was  crucified.  The  bones  of  the  three  wise  men 
are  kept  here  in  a  little  jewelled  casket,  which  is  opened 
every  seven  years  at  certain  ceremonies.  There  is 
only  one  thing  in  Cologne — the  cathedral — but  it  is 
enough.  In  the  quietude  of  this  sacred  spot  one  feels 
so  small  and  utterly  lost  in  its  grand  immensity,  and 
marvels  at  its  vastness  and  fabulous  cost. 

HOLLAND 

We  left  our  friends,  the  Himes,  to  go  to  Amsterdam 
— a  day's  journey.  Holland  is  a  country  of  work, 
work,  work.  The  people  scrub  to  rest  themselves. 
Everybody  is  scrubbing  and  working.  Here  we  have 
the  finest  diamond  cutting  of  the  world,  though  at 
present  it  does  not  amount  to  anything.  We  take  a 
trip  by  boat  to  Volendam  and  the  Isle  of  Marken — 
the  most  primitive  of  all  our  experiences,  and  where 
the  populace  still  dress  in  the  Dutch  costume.  I 
purchased  some  Dutch  bonnets.  When  we  landed  at 
Marken,  a  child  about  three  years  old,  a  chubby  little 
girl,  caught  hold  of  Mr.  Middleton's  coat  and  followed 
us  up  and  down  and  all  around,  talking  and  laughing 
all  the  time.  Mr.  Middleton  was  so  embarrassed;  his 
face  turned  as  red  as  could  be;  it  was  so  amusing — 
everybody  was  laughing.  Finally  it  dawned  on  him 
to  give  her  pennies  to  get  rid  of  her — she  fairly  jumped 
with  joy  and  held  on  the  tighter. 

We  noticed  some  lads  about  ten  years  of  age,  very 
bright  Dutch  boys,  in  the  native  costume,  with  the 
Dutch  haircut.  They  know  a  little  English,  which 
they  used  to  very  poor  advantage.  They  had  posed 
for  various  artists  during  the  summer  season.  W7hen 
a  boat  arrives  they  cry:  "Good-by!"  and  when  a 
vessel  leaves  they  call  out  "How  d'ye  do!"  in  a  very 
broken  way,  most  diverting  to  hear.  We  saw  here 
some  fine  specimens  of  manhood — tawny,  muscular 
men,  almost  giants.  The  majority  of  them  are 
fishermen — fishing  is  the  chief  occupation  here — and 
they  go  out  to  sea,  leaving  their  families  in  Marken. 


42  ALINEADAY 

Often  they  are  gone  for  months  at  a  time.  Many  of 
them  never  return.  But  one  is  just  as  well  off  lost  at 
sea  as  living  in  Marken. 

We  have  left  Amsterdam  for  Brussels,  Belgium,  a 
beautiful  city.  We  visit  the  Exposition  Grounds, 
which  are  not  complete  as  yet.  We  meet  our  friends, 
Mr.  and  Miss  Himes,  again.  We  motored  together  to 
Waterloo,*  that  historic  battlefield  where  Napoleon 
was  finally  defeated. 

In  Brussels  we  purchased  some  Holland  China,  the 
decoration  representing  twelve  geese  running  after 
each  other  in  a  circle.  Paris  is  a  day's  run  from  this 
city. 

APRIL  19— PARIS 

What  shall  I  say?     Much  or  little? 
The  Louvre  charmed  me.    I  lived  centuries  in  the 
hours  that  I  wandered  there. 

THE  LOUVRE 

Many  volumes  might  be  written  on  the  master- 
pieces in  this  treasure  house  of  art. 

Possibly  the  most  celebrated  of  them  all  is  the 
incomparable  Mona  Lisa  (The  Joyful),  sometimes  called 
La  Gioconda,  of  Leonardo  de  Vinci,  upon  which  that 
artist  labored  four  years  and  still  declared  it  to  be 
unfinished.  Mona  Lisa  is  seated  in  a  low  chair, 
leaning  lightly  upon  one  of  the  arms;  the  languorous 
eyes  seem  about  to  close,  the  exquisite  mouth  is 
curved  in  a  mysterious  smile.  The  hands  are  so  well 
molded  that  one  can  almost  feel  their  warmth  and 
velvety  softness.  A  fantastic  landscape  forms  the 
background.  Much  has  been  written,  in  poetry  and 
prose,  about  the  Mona  Lisa,  but  no  one  has  yet 
fathomed  all  the  enigmas  of  that  calm,  sphinx-like 
face. 

No  other  painter  before  or  since  has  interpreted  the 
beauty  of  women  as  perfectly  as  Titian.  Witness  the 
portrait  of  the  peerless  Laura  Dianti  and  Alfonso  of 

*See  Addenda 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  43 

Ferrara.  The  Duke,  almost  entirely  in  shadow,  plays 
the  part  of  an  attendant  presenting  the  fair  Laura 
with  a  mirror.  The  dazzling  face,  with  its  brilliant 
eyes,  is  turned  slightly  toward  the  glass,  while  she 
gathers  up  her  hair  with  a  gesture  of  exquisite  grace — 
tresses  of  the  universally  admired  Titian  red.  The 
low  bodice,  revealing  the  voluptuously  rounded 
shoulders,  stands  out  against  the  dark  background, 
and  one  statuesque  arm  is  admirably  placed  in  the 
shadowy  fold  of  the  sleeve. 

Raphael  is  best  represented  by  the  famous  La  Belle 
Jardiniere,  where  in  a  beautiful  and  varied  landscape, 
a  tender-eyed,  fair  haired  virgin  bends  toward  the 
Infant  Jesus,  who  leans  against  her  knee,  while  the 
baby  St.  John,  half  kneeling,  raises  his  eyes  to  the 
future  Savior  in  an  attitude  of  adoration;  also  the 
Virgin  of  the  Blue  Diadem,  in  which  the  beautiful 
mother,  with  a  graceful  movement,  raises  the  trans- 
parent veil  that  covers  the  sleeping  babe,  while  St. 
John,  with  half-open  mouth,  seems  to  restrain  the  cry 
of  admiration  about  to  escape  his  lips.  In  the  back- 
ground is  a  picturesque  ruin  in  a  misty  landscape. 

Here  is  one  of  the  most  lovely  of  the  many  Immacu- 
late Conceptions  painted  by  the  Spanish  artist, 
Murillo.  The  divine  apparition,  with  uplifted  eyes, 
ascends  to  heaven  surrounded  by  adoring  angels. 
A  silvery  crescent  in  the  clouds  at  her  feet  throws 
luminous  reflections  on  her  trailing  robe  of  blue  and 
white.  Another  great  Spanish  master,  Velasquez,  is 
represented  by  numerous  portraits  of  the  royal  family 
of  Spain — he  was  Court  Painter  to  Philip  IV— 
especially  the  Infantas,  in  their  monstrous  dresses  of 
stiff  brocade  and  their  solemn,  doll-like  faces. 

In  this  gallery  are  a  number  of  works  by  that 
greatest  of  all  painters  of  children,  Jean  Baptiste 
Greuze,  notably  the  charming  "Girl  with  the  Broken 
Pitcher."  The  girlish  figure,  clad  in  white,  her  lap 
full  of  rosy  blossoms,  and  a  quaint  pitcher  of  cracked 


44  A    LINE    A    DAY 

gray  pottery  over  one  arm,  stands  out  against  a  dull 
background. 

One  sees  Van  Dyke's  noble  likeness  of  the  unfortu- 
nate Charles  I;  some  portraits  by  Madame  Vigee- 
Le  Brun,  particularly  the  dashing  "Lady  with  the 
Muff;"  the  beautiful  sylvan  scenes  of  Watteau,  with 
their  dainty  shepherds  and  shepherdesses,  and  the 
lovely  forests  and  landscapes  of  Corot,  where  sprightly 
nymphs  and  fauns  hold  their  revels. 

Among  many  glorious  masterpieces  of  sculpture, 
the  majestic  Venus  de  Milo  is  enshrined,  worshipped 
as  she  ever  has  been  and  ever  will  be,  by  all  admirers 
of  the  beautiful. 

In  Paris  we  rented  a  motor  day  after  day,  and  drove 
out  into  the  country.  The  many  trees  of  the  forests 
are  covered  with  a  green  moss,  so  pretty,  and  waving 
so  gracefully.  The  trees,  the  lawns,  and  the  moss  are 
all  of  the  most  vivid  green  I  have  ever  seen. 

The  City  of  Paris  looks  small  and  dirty  to  me.  It 
is  very  easy  to  find  one's  way  about.  The  shops  are 
numerous,  but  very  small.  We  stopped  at  the  Conti- 
nental Hotel.  Here  we  encountered  some  American 
friends.  We  have  had  dinner  parties  and  theatre 
parties.  I  have  shopped  up  and  down  the  alleys — 
here  we  dignify  them  by  calling  them  La  Rue  de 
1'Opera  and  other  fancy  names. 

We  motored  out  to  Versailles,*  the  home  of  Louis 
XIV,  Louis  XV,  Louis  XVI,  Napoleon,  and  later 
Louis  XVIII.  The  gardens  are  very  beautiful,  and 
the  whole  place  extremely  interesting.  The  rooms  of 
Marie  Antoinette,  Madame  de  Pompadour,  and 
Madame  du  Barri  all  had  an  irresistible  attraction  for 
me.  The  royal  stables  were  most  interesting.  They 
were  certainly  very  pompous,  with  gold  mounted 
harness,  wonderful  carriages,  upholstered  in  handsome 
brocades.  The  sleigh  of  Marie  Antoinette  is  a  dainty 
thing,  so  gracefully  built,  with  the  dearest  little 
place  to  tuck  her  feet  in.  Such  graceful  shafts,  and 

*See  Addenda 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  45 

such  a  small  seat  for  the  footman — it  hardly  looked 
practical,  but  more  like  a  toy. 

Last  of  all,  and  most  fascinating,  is  the  home  of 
Napoleon  and  Josephine,  the  palace  of  Malmaison.* 
It  remains  just  as  they  left  it,  each  room  is  undis- 
turbed, and  appears  as  it  did  when  they  lived  there. 
It  is  all  strangely  sad  to  me,  with  a  moral  to  be 
remembered :  How  strong  one  can  be,  yet  how  weak — 
how  mighty  today  and  how  humble  tomorrow! 


We  have  spent  days  wandering  around  Paris,  in  and 
out  of  the  shops,  up  and  down  the  boulevards,  into  the 
art  galleries,  and  to  the  smart  places  for  tea — the 
Hotel  Ritz,  and  Hummel's,  which  is  the  most  fashion- 
able resort  for  tea.  Two  people  may  get  a  whisk  of 
cake  and  a  cup  of  tea  for  two  dollars,  but  the  show 
that  goes  with  it  is  worth  the  price,  for  here  one 
certainly  sees  the  exclusive  smart  Parisian. 

WE   ARE   LEAVING   FOR  LONDON 

Dear  old  foggy,  rainy  London;  but  we  have 
enjoyed  it  all.  We  have  had  fair  weather,  and  here, 
for  the  first  time,  we  have  enjoyed  a  real  grate  fire. 
Oh,  so  cheerful!  We  have  shopped  and  driven  all 
over  the  city,  have  "done"  Buckingham  Palace,  the 
city  residence  of  the  present  king,  Westminster 
Abbey,  also  the  Embankment  on  the  Thames.  But 
there  is  so  much  poverty  in  this  great  city,  so  many 
poor  little  children  dodging  around,  and  half-clothed 
women — the  kind  one  reads  about  in  Dickens'  novels. 
His  characters  really  live  here.  Each  face  reveals  a 
pitiful  story  of  the  struggle  for  existence. 

We  have  tea  every  afternoon  at  some  fashionable 
resort,  which  is  quite  a  la  mode  here,  and  have  motored 
through  Hyde  Park  and  Regent  Park,  where  I  bought 
a  riding  hat.  We  are  stopping  at  the  Hotel  Cecil. 
We  went  to  see  "The  Arcadians,"  a  charming  little 
comic  opera.  We  have  enjoyed  the  first  jokes  of  the 
trip,  and  the  music  delighted  us.  The  English  accent 

*See  Addenda 


46  ALINEADAY 

fascinates  us  both;  it  is  as  much  as  one  can  do  to 
understand  it.  Trafalgar  Square  is  a  beautiful  place, 
reminding  us  of  the  soldiers'  Monument  in 
Indianapolis.  We  are  packing  up  again  to  be  off  to 
Southampton  by  rail,  where  we  embark  for  Japan. 
It  is  a  lovely  ride  from  London.  It  is  thirteen  thousand 
miles  to  Yokohama,  thirty-five  hundred  from  New 
York  and  four  thousand  to  San  Francisco,  making  a 
total  of  twenty  thousand  five  hundred  miles  which  we 
shall  have  traveled  by  water.  We  received  a  letter  from 
America  from  Mr.  S.  It  made  me  jump  with  joy,  it 
was  so  thoughtful. 

We  take  the  train  from  London  to  Southampton, 
a  three  hours'  ride  through  a  beautiful  country,  dotted 
with  numberless  pretty  country  houses.  The  trees 
are  all  in  blossom,  gardens  are  being  made,  and  it  is  a 
most  refreshing  picture  of  the  other  side  of  life,  after 
the  busy  city  life  of  London. 

APRIL  27 

The  boat  York  is  a  very  comfortable-looking 
vessel,  three  years  old.  It  was  named  in  honor  of  a 
German  general  of  the  name  of  York,  and  was  built 
at  a  cost  of  $1,500,000.  It  is  a  very  large  boat,  and 
consumes  about  $500  worth  of  coal  a  day.  We  make 
from  fifteen  to  eighteen  knots  an  hour. 

The  captain  is  a  fat  German,  and  the  greater  part  of 
the  crew  are  Germans,  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
Chinamen.  Like  all  seamen,  the  gallant  captain  is 
very  jolly  and  good  natured  and  speaks  fairly  good 
English. 

We  embarked  six  miles  out,  and  were  taken  to  the 
ship  on  the  tug,  Her  Majesty.  This  harbor  is  a 
picture — here  are  many  boats  of  all  sizes,  including  a 
number  of  war  vessels,  which  are  here  for  the  purpose 
of  transporting  soldiers  to  India  and  other  countries. 

The  first  day  out  we  are  fairly  comfortable;  it  is 
cold,  but  the  sea  is  quite  smooth.  There  are  many 
Germans  aboard.  We  also  have  a  curious  little  Dutch 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  47 

band,  which  plays  strange,  weird  pieces  that  make  one 
wish  for  his  enemies.  This  little  Dutch  band  cleans 
the  decks  mornings  and  evenings,  so  that  they  only 
pain  us  for  two  hours  in  the  morning,  while  they  are 
resting,  and  during  the  dinner  hour,  when  they 
dispense  more  Heinie  music. 

We  are  glad  to  get  aboard.  It  seems  as  though  we 
are  really  going  home — that  blessed  word,  when  love 
and  truth  rule,  to  comfort  and  sooth  our  world-weary 
brains. 

I  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  charming  English 
woman.  We  had  tea  aboard,  made  from  her  tea 
basket.  We  did  fancy  work  together,  and  she  is  also 
my  table  companion.  She  presented  me  with  some 
real  for-get-me-nots  from  her  garden  at  home.  I  wish 
to  keep  them  forever,  they  are  so  delicate  and  so 
sweet.  They  are  the  first  I  have  ever  seen.  They 
change  color  from  blue  to  violet,  and  then  to  tan- 
brown,  before  they  fade. 

This  ship  is  really  comfortable — oh,  so  comfortable 
for  a  boat!  We  sit  in  the  sun  and  Mr.  Middleton 
sleeps. 

We  land  at  Gibraltar  in  the  morning,  April  twenty- 
ninth.  We  paid  this  quaint  old  town  a  visit  in 
December.  We  bought  here  a  half  dozen  Moorish 
baskets,  and  some  delicious  strawberries.  We  met 
a  typical  English  soldier,  with  Miss  Belle  Rennie.  He 
carried  a  Tommy  Atkins,  and  was  very  stiff  and 
proper;  bore  himself  extremely  well,  and  we  admired 
his  athletic  bearing. 

After  another  day  and  a  half,  we  landed  at  Algiers, 
Africa.  Although  it  was  rainy  and  stormy,  we  went 
ashore.  We  drove  all  over  the  city  with  a  guide, 
spending  six  hours,  and  as  the  city  is  very  small,  it  is 
possible  to  go  over  it  many  times  in  that  period.  It 
is  hundreds  of  years  old,  and  is  now  a  possession  of  the 
French  Government.  The  inhabitants  are  mixed — 
Turks,  Moors,  Frenchmen  and  Negroes.  The  town  is 
built  on  the  side  of  a  hill.  We  visited  the  Sultan's 


48  ALINEADAY 

palace,  and  his  former  harem,  a  beautiful  building  of 
white  marble  and  blue  tiles — Italian  blue,  and 
trimmed  with  black  and  red  wood,  hand  carved.  The 
effect  is  very  striking.  The  palace  was  built  three 
hundred  and  sixty  years  ago.  There  is  an  entrance  to 
the  mosque,  or  Moorish  church,  from  the  palace.  Both 
buildings,  of  course,  are  of  Moorish  design,  with 
Gothic  windows  and  doors. 

We  have  visited  another  mosque  at  six  o'clock,  when 
the  people  were  assembling  to  worship,  just  at  the  close 
of  the  day.  The  mosques  are  built  with  galleries, 
where  the  women  sit  alone,  while  the  men  sit  down- 
stairs on  the  floor — there  are  no  seats.  The  wealthy 
bring  their  little  prayer  rugs  with  them,  on  which  they 
sit  in  a  peculiar  squatting  position,  while  the  poor 
kneel  on  the  bare  floor.  There  is  a  huge  basin  or 
fountain  at  one  end  of  this  mosque,  where  all  the 
faithful  must  wash  their  faces,  feet  and  hands.  One 
can  hear  them  splashing  the  water  and  chanting  queer 
noises.  This  custom  is  indeed  picturesque.  The  girls 
and  women  veil  their  faces  and  live  in  almost  complete 
retirement.  They  wear  full  trousers,  fancy  Zouave 
jackets,  and  a  rolled  flat  turban.  The  rich  wear  silk, 
satin,  and  velvet,  in  gorgeous  shades  of  blue,  red  and 
purple,  while  the  poorer  classes  use  a  white  material 
resembling  our  muslin  and  cheese  cloth.  The  men  are 
attired  in  long  flowing  white  robes,  a  twisted  Turkish 
turban,  and  sandals.  During  the  winter  the  upper 
classes  wear  blankets  of  silk  or  camel's  hair,  draped 
about  their  shoulders  in  a  most  picturesque  fashion. 
The  Mohammedan  priest  is  called  a  Marabout. 
There  are  many,  many  children  here,  but  so  neglected ; 
everything  is  so  unkept,  both  the  streets  and  the 
homes. 

We  spent  quite  a  bit  of  time  in  the  old  part  of  the 
town,  where  only  Moors  live.  The  streets  are 
decidedly  narrow,  with  mere  holes-in-the-wall  for 
homes  and  places  of  business.  Three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  is  their  coffee  time.  It  is  customary  for 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  49 

the  men  to  assemble  in  the  restaurants  or  coffee 
houses  to  play  cards,  drink  black  coffee  and  smoke 
Turkish  cigarettes.  The  women  never  attend;  they 
are  treated  very  unjustly  here.  After  a  woman  loses 
her  youth  and  charm  she  is  used  as  a  slave  and  is 
forced  to  do  all  the  hard  work.  It  is  pitiful  to  see  them. 
Girls  marry  at  ten  and  twelve  years  of  age  and  are 
extremely  pretty  when  young,  but  the  life  they  are 
forced  to  lead  makes  them  look  like  withered  hags 
at  twenty.  However,  they  live  to  be  very  old. 

We  saw  one  venerable  old  gentleman  here,  ninety- 
two  years  old.  He  is  supported  by  the  city,  in  a  nice 
clean  little  hole-in-the-wall,  where  he  was  lying  on 
some  white  straw.  He  was  certainly  a  study  for  an 
artist,  with  his  classic  features,  long  white  beard, 
silvery  hair,  tapering  hands,  his  wonderfully  soft 
black  eyes  and  olive  skin. 

We  leave  for  Genoa  at  midnight,  in  the  midst  of  a 
very  bad  storm.  In  a  day  and  a  half  we  reach  this 
city — the  birthplace  of  Columbus.  We  visited  his 
home,  a  dreadful  old  house,  situated  in  a  very  bad 
neighborhood.  In  Mr.  Middleton's  opinion,  judged 
from  his  surroundings,  Christopher  must  have  been 
a  pretty  tough  lad.  Genoa  is  clean  and  up-to-date 
in  the  new  portion  of  the  city.  We  drove  all  over  the 
town  and  had  lunch  on  the  hill  overlooking  the  bay, 
which  I  think  is  more  beautiful  than  Naples.  The 
port  was  once  the  leading  commercial  city  in  the 
world,  but  after  so  many  wars  with  other  nations,  it  is 
glad  to  be  on  earth  at  all.  However,  considerable 
commerce  is  carried  on  here  at  the  present  time.  Now 
they  are  making  preparations  to  celebrate  the  birthday 
of  Garibaldi,  the  illustrious  statesman  who  saved  the 
city  and  made  it  a  part  of  modern  Italy. 

There  are  several  small  but  very  pretty  parks  here, 
and  this  cemetery  is  the  most  unique  in  the  world. 
The  dead  are  buried  above  ground,  on  shelves,  and 
before  these  shelves  are  wonderful  doors  of  marble  or 
bronze,  on  which  are  represented  life  size  figures  of  the 


60  ALINEADAY 

entire  family,  grouped  together — gates  with  angels 
opening  them,  with  the  exact  likeness  of  the  deceased, 
also  his  occupation  or  profession,  or  any  hobby  that 
he  may  have  had,  carved  in  Carrara  marble,  or  bronze. 
The  surrounding  hills  are  dotted  with  wonderful  little 
chapels;  the  wealthy  have  their  own  chapel,  and 
conduct  their  own  services.  Most  extraordinary! 

The  baker-woman  was  very  original.  She  begged 
and  sold  on  the  streets  a  sort  of  pretzel,  and  saved 
enough  money  to  erect  a  splendid  monument  for  her- 
self and  family.  And  here  she  stands,  life-size,  carved 
in  snowy  Carrara  marble,  offering  her  pretzels  for  sale. 
A  prominent  physician  is  represented  on  the  magnifi- 
cent bronze  doors  of  his  mausoleum,  giving  alms  and 
medicines  to  struggling  and  suffering  humanity. 
Another  very  striking  group  of  figures  shows  a  father 
passing  away  in  his  death  chamber,  surrounded  by  his 
wife  and  seven  children — all  the  figures  are  life-size, 
done  in  Carrara  marble.  It  is  most  impressive. 

We  have  returned  home — that  is,  to  the  boat — 
after  a  very  full  day.  We  have  been  pleasantly 
entertained.  We  visited  Genoa  in  December,  but  the 
weather  was  stormy  and  we  only  paused  long  enough 
to  change  trains  for  Nice. 

After  another  day  and  a  half  we  reached  Naples, 
the  port  where  we  landed  in  December.  The  same 
place,  and  the  same  old  dirty  people.  We  passed  the 
Berlin  today  in  mid-ocean,  and  sighted  the  Barbarossa, 
the  boat  on  which  Mrs.  Eacutt  sailed  for  America. 
We  go  ashore,  shop  a  little,  purchase  some  asparagus, 
tobacco,  a  Panama  hat  and  more  coral.  Drive  all 
over  the  city  once  more,  are  caught  in  a  shower  while 
ashore,  and  finally  return  to  the  vessel. 

We  are  now  enroute  to  Port  Said,  a  three  days'  run. 
We  passed  the  City  of  Messina,  and  it  is  a  wreck 
indeed,  on  both  sides  of  the  strait.  Twenty-two 
thousand  six  hundred  people  were  killed  in  the  recent 
disaster.  They  are  beginning  to  rebuild  the  city, 
after  a  lapse  of  one  year.  We  passed  the  Island  of 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  51 

Elba,  the  scene  of  Napoleon's  brief  sojourn  in  1814-15. 
We  saw  once  more  the  cones  of  Mt.  Vesuvius,  and  Mt. 
Aetna,  near  Messina.  We  are  sending  postals  all 
along,  and  are  wondering  what  you  are  doing  tonight. 
We  dine  on  deck;  it  is  a  glorious  night  although 
somewhat  cool,  after  a  delightful  day.  How  we  should 
like  to  peep  into  each  little  house  and  see  what  is 
cooking  for  supper! 

MAY  10 

We  have  had  several  dull  days  on  board,  with 
nothing  to  do  but  eat  and  rest.  We  land  at  Port 
Said,  Egypt,  on  the  morning  of  May  tenth.  We  go 
ashore  at  six-fifteen.  Just  beyond  Port  Said  is  tha 
beginning  of  the  Sahara  Desert.  The  city  has  ten 
thousand  inhabitants,  a  motley  blend  of  Greeks, 
Arabs,  Negroes,  Frenchmen,  Italians  and  Turks.  The 
people  pray  from  five  to  seven  times  a  day  and  wash 
their  faces,  hands  and  feet  each  time — an  excellent 
religion,  although  I  fear  that  some  of  them  do  not  pray 
enough — one  sees  such  terible  people  and  such  vile 
dirt.  The  human  beings  here  live  so  near  the  animal. 
The  children  all  seem  sadly  neglected.  This  region  is 
very  sandy,  and  the  people  all  have  poor  eyesight. 
Many  are  blind  in  one  eye,  and  others  totally  blind. 
It  is  attributed  to  the  sand  blowing.  All  wear  the 
national  Arab  costume.  The  married  women  wear  a 
piece  of  wood  or  brass  in  their  noses,  a  sort  of  twisted 
wheel  affair,  that  comes  from  the  top  of  the  forehead 
to  the  end  of  the  nose.  A  veil  is  draped  across  this 
to  hide  the  lower  features,  while  a  scarf  is  tied  down 
tight  over  their  heads.  The  eyes  alone  are  visible — 
but  they  speak  volumes. 

We  purchased  some  ostrich  feathers  and  cigarettes 
and  drove  all  over  the  city.  We  saw  many  handsome 
Turkish  pillow  covers.  It  is  a  ride  of  four  miles  from 
here  to  the  City  of  Cairo.  The  innumerable  fortune 
tellers  and  shop  keepers  make  one's  life  miserable. 
The  soldiers  are  fine  looking  men,  arrayed  in  white 


52  ALINEADAY 

uniforms  with  red  belts,  red  fez  caps,  and  with  their 
bronzed  complexions,  they  are  very  Oriental  indeed. 
Egypt  is  controlled  by  the  British.  The  Egyptian 
ruler  is  called  the  Khedive. 

We  enter  the  Suez  Canal.  It  is  eighty-three  miles 
long  and  twelve  hours  is  required  for  the  passage.  It 
is  very  narrow,  and  is  cut  directly  through  the  sandy 
barren  desert,  with  here  and  there  a  station  for  the 
Canal.  At  about  four-thirty  in  the  afternoon,  just 
as  the  sun  was  setting,  we  noticed  an  Arab  hut  about 
two  miles  from  the  bank,  and  a  caravan  of  camels — 
about  ten  in  number.  Two  were  advancing  alone  from 
away  in  the  desert,  the  rest  were  following  slowly. 
It  was  indeed  a  perfect  picture.  The  sun  was  sinking 
in  a  blaze  of  crimson,  making  a  splendidly  vivid 
background  for  the  straggling  old  camels. 

We  are  having  beggars  of  the  wildman  type,  crying : 
"Ship  ahoy!  Bread!  Give!"  and  other  strange 
noises.  The  passengers  threw  oranges,  apples,  and 
potatoes  until  the  captain  was  furious.  They  were 
clothed  only  in  rags  and  would  dive  down  under  the 
water  for  the  delicacies.  They  would  run  for  two  miles 
along  the  shore.  In  truth,  they  were  the  nearest 
to  wildmen,  or  savages,  that  I  have  ever  encountered — 
perfectly  nude,  except  a  piece  of  blanket  about  the 
waist. 

MAY  11 

WTe  are  at  Port  Suez.  There  is  a  small  village  about 
one  mile  from  here,  called  Suezais.  We  have  entered 
the  Red  Sea.  It  is  very  warm,  but  fairly  pleasant.  We 
have  traveled  three  days,  enroute  to  Aden. 

All  day  we  have  glided  languidly  along,  with  sand, 
and  mountains  of  sand  on  each  side  of  us — barren 
desert,  where  rain  seldom  falls,  where  burning  sand  is 
all  there  is,  and  no  living  thing  can  exist. 

As  the  vessel  speeds  on  her  way  we  realize  that 
summer  is  approaching.  This  evening  we  were  given 
a  wonderful  sunset.  The  sky  took  on  a  copper  shade, 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  S3 

deepening  into  a  gorgeous  crimson.  The  vivid  tints, 
reflecting  on  the  water,  set  it  all  aglow.  The  sea 
appeared  a  greenish  red,  while  the  shore  line  of  sand 
divided  this  glowing  ocean  and  sky.  One  would  have 
thought  the  desert  was  on  fire. 

Slowly,  slowly,  the  sun  sinks  to  rest,  and  the  brilliant 
colors  change  to  sadder  hues,  and  as  the  day  gently 
dies,  a  peculiar  melancholy  mist  of  cloud  veils  the 
heavens,  always  noticeable  at  sea  at  this  time  in  the 
evening. 

It  reminds  one  that  one  more  golden  day  has  past, 
to  be  numbered  with  the  many  pleasant  and  happy 
ones  that  can  never  be  lived  again,  save  in  sweet  fancy. 

Precious  time!  How  I  long  to  hold  you  thus 
forever!  Why  must  you  always  be  moving?  When 
we  are  happy,  you  speed  away  so  swiftly,  but  slowly 
and  sadly,  indeed,  when  trouble  and  sorrow  cast  their 
gloom  o'er  our  path  of  life ! 

MAY  13 

We  are  on  our  way  to  Aden.  It  is  certainly 
decidedly  warm  in  this  region  of  the  Red  Sea.  All  the 
passengers  have  donned  summer  clothing,  white 
flannel  and  duck  suits,  and  all  the  officers  of  the  boat 
are  attired  in  white.  This  is  the  impression  we  get 
from  stories  of  the  ideal  life  at  sea.  All  day  we  sit 
on  deck,  reading,  visiting,  and  chatting  with  each 
other.  I  did  a  little  fancy  work,  intermingled  with 
gossip.  I  have  finished  Lord  Lytton's  "Last  Days  of 
Pompeii,"  Mark  Twain's  "Tramp  Abroad,"  "Before 
Adam,"  by  Jack  London,  and  miscellaneous  writings 
of  Kipling. 

We  have  been  greatly  amused  by  the  spectacle  of  a 
Chinaman  smoking  and  holding  his  pipe  between  his 
toes,  with  inimitable  grace  and  apparent  comfort. 

About  three  a.  m.,  May  twelfth,  we  were  called  to 
see  the  comet.  We  saw  it  a  few  nights  ago,  but  under 
very  unfavorable  conditions,  as  the  sky  was  cloudy. 
But  this  morning  it  is  wonderfully  clear,  with  myriads 


54  ALINEADAY 

of  brilliant  stars  twinkling  in  the  firmament.  Dear  old 
Venus  is  divine.  She  sheds  a  ray  of  light  on  the 
rippling  water  as  gloriously  bright  as  the  moon  itself, 
and  she  appears  as  large  as  a  wagon  wheel.  The 
musical  splash  of  the  waves,  caused  by  the  plowing  of 
the  boat,  with  the  dazzling  ray  of  light  diffused  by  this 
star  only  adds  to  the  fascinating  mystery  of  this 
comet.  It  is  almost  directly  east  now — it  has  been  a 
little  southeast,  with  Venus  very  near.  It  is  so 
reposeful  to  thus  lean  over  the  water — to  behold  so 
much,  and  to  understand  so  little.  Only  at  sea  does 
one  have  these  melancholy  spells — these  pensive 
moods.  When  we  review  again  the  pages  of  the  past, 
as  we  would  read  a  book,  we  live  these  years  over 
again,  one  by  one,  our  sorrows  and  our  joys!  Show 
me  a  heart  that  has  not  suffered,  and  I  will  show  you  a 
person  who  has  not  lived. 

It  is  heavenly  to  watch  the  day  slowly  expire,  to  see 
the  glorious  orb  of  day  slowly  sink  to  rest  over  the 
shimmering  sea.  A  mysterious  calmness  comes  over 
the  ocean,  a  hazy  mist  seems  to  carry  one  up  into  the 
darkness.  At  last  we  behold  the  moon.  As  we  dip 
along,  the  white  foam  churning  beside  the  vessel,  it 
seems  to  steal  softly  after  us,  or  veils  itself  behind  a 
passing  cloud,  as  children  play  hide-and-seek. 

A    SUMMER   DAY   AT   SEA 

The  sea  is  like  a  mill  pond  today,  of  a  strange 
greenish  hue.  The  sky  has  a  peculiar  gray-blue  cast, 
caused  by  the  sun's  golden  glow,  and  gently,  oh, 
so  gently,  a  cool  breeze  plays  about  and  fans  one's 
stray  locks,  reminding  one  that  it  is  good  to  live,  to  be 
able  to  rest  one's  fatigued  brain  in  this  ineffable  peace ! 

As  the  ships  pass,  so  do  these  idle  thoughts,  and  I  jot 
them  down  here  in  this  blue  immensity,  where  the 
world  seems  asleep  and  dreaming.  It  is  so  soothing 
and  reposeful,  this  charm  of  thought — it  is  really  be- 
yond speech. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  ;         56 

I  have  just  finished  Beatrice  Harradan's  novel, 
"Ships  that  Pass  in  the  Night."  It  has  depressed  me 
greatly.  It  is  now  twelve  o'clock,  and  I  am  still  on 
the  deck,  watching  the  moon.  It  has  been  very 
warm,  and  all  the  passengers  seem  restless  and  have 
remained  on  deck  very  late.  The  ships  that  pass 
in  the  night  are  the  people  that  come  into  our  lives — 
and  go;  some  leave  pleasant  memories  and  others  sad 
ones;  some  we  long  to  forget  and  cannot.  By  each 
ship,  each  pleasant  thought,  each  act,  we  are  better 
off — to  every  living  soul  it  is  a  lesson. 

I  thank  you,  kind  Fate,  that  so  many  good  ships 
have  sailed  my  way,  and  for  the  others  also,  as  they 
are  necessary  to  make  complete  the  voyage  of  life,  and 
in  the  future  I  shall  watch  for  ships  in  distress  and 
storm-tossed  souls! 

MAY  15 

We  are  about  to  leave  Aden,  Arabia.  The  city 
appears  to  be  built  on  jagged  rocks.  We  did  not  land, 
but  only  exchanged  mail.  The  numerous  vendors  were 
most  interesting.  They  are  negroes  of  the  savage 
type,  very  small,  and  oh,  so  thin!  naked,  except  for  a 
loin  cloth.  Some  of  the  more  refined  and  genteel 
wear  a  rag  around  their  heads.  They  are  in  boats, 
selling  tobacco,  beads,  ostrich  feathers,  fans,  horns, 
postals,  etc.,  crying:  "Mr.  Poor  Lady,  have  a  look, 
buy  a  big  one,  cheap."  Their  black  naked  forms 
fairly  glisten  in  the  sun;  they  grease  their  bodies 
until  they  look  like  polished  ebony.  Some  have  their 
hair  dyed  a  bright  red — this  is  done  with  lime;  also 
long  sashes  hang  down  their  backs  and  around  their 
stomachs.  They  adorn  their  person  with  anklets, 
bracelets,  huge  rings  and  strings  of  beads.  You  can 
imagine  what  a  picture  they  make. 

The  heat  is  something  dreadful.  England  has  her 
inevitable  soldiers  here,  making  this  a  military  station. 
They  leave  their  command  quite  often.  It  is  impossi- 
ble to  live  here  very  long  at  a  time.  The  British 


56  ALINEADAY 

soldiers  dress  in  tan  shoes  and  half  socks,  with  khaki 
knee  breeches  and  naked  bodies;  a  strap  that  goes 
around  the  neck,  and  a  pad  down  the  spine,  that 
buckles  around  the  waist.  All  wear  helmets.  We  are 
told  that  many  sunstrokes  are  caused  here  by  the  sun's 
rays  striking  directly  on  the  spine,  hence  these  pads. 

We  started  the  day  rather  quietly.  We  have  a 
level  sea  with  nothing  in  sight  from  horizon  to  horizon. 
The  speed  of  the  good  ship  makes  a  slight  breeze. 
There  is  no  mail,  no  letters,  no  papers,  no  telephones, 
no  startling  sounds,  no  sudden  joys  or  sorrows — all  is 
well.  The  busy  world  seems  so  far  away  that  it  is 
easy  to  forget  that  it  exists.  People  and  things  appear 
to  have  gone  out  of  our  lives.  Apathy  and  ambition, 
prosperity  and  disaster  do  not  concern  me  now.  The 
cares  and  worries  of  life  are  far  behind  me — the 
present  is  delightfully  soothing  and — there  is  no 
future.  The  whirl  of  sight-seeing,  time  and  trains, 
guides,  art,  history — are  no  more !  There  is  a  balm  in 
this  ineffable  peace. 

MAY  16 

Last  night  we  saw  the  comet  again — we  rose  at 
fifteen  minutes  to  three  to  wait  for  it.  At  first  there 
was  only  a  faint,  white  streak  in  the  heavens;  the 
stars  were  rather  dim.  After  fifteen  or  twenty  min- 
utes, the  sky  became  perceptibly  lighter;  Venus  rose 
rapidly,  shedding  her  wonderful  beam  on  the  rippling 
water,  and  she  seemed  close  enough  to  touch.  In  half 
an  hour  the  tail  of  the  comet  was  very  long  and  bright, 
its  position  being  almost  due  east,  the  body  of  the 
comet  pointing  near  the  horizon.  It  is  not  as  brilliant 
as  on  the  twelfth.  It  is  traveling  at  the  rate  of 
sixteen  thousand  miles  every  twenty-four  hours  (so 
the  passengers  say).  We  stood  wondering  on  the 
deck,  in  the  wee  hours  of  the  morning,  in  this  great 
stillness,  on  this  huge  black  expanse  of  water,  beneath 
the  starlit  heavens — it  is  all  so  wonderful  and  so 
mystifying. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  57 

Each  night  we  see  many  meteors  or  flying  stars. 
I  have  counted  three  or  four  each  evening. 

We  are  bounding  along  pleasantly.  We  saw  many 
porpoises  playing  about,  jumping  in  and  out  of  the 
water,  school  after  school  of  them  along  the  northern 
coast  of  Africa.  The  shore  appears  to  be  rocky  and 
sandy  and  far  away. 

It  is  gratifying  to  be  an  American — one  finds 
wealth  and  comfort  in  the  very  thought.  As  Mark 
Twain  says,  an  American  is  mislaid  in  these  foreign 
countries. 

THE  MOON 

Dear,  kind,  old  Moon !  You  have  been  lighting  our 
world  these  many  centuries,  yet  you  never  seem  to  tire 
of  your  duty !  In  your  rising  and  sinking  to  rest  there 
seems  to  be  a  reposeful  melancholy;  the  human  heart 
finds  comfort  in  thinking  and  dreaming  beneath  your 
serene  rays,  as  you  shine  on.  Our  thoughts  cling  to  the 
past,  or  reach  on  to  the  mystic  future,  hoping  and 
trusting.  Return,  each  night,  I  pray  you!  I  shall 
watch  and  wait  for  you  on  the  stern  of  the  vessel, 
that  we  may  moon  again,  O  gracious  Moon,  you  and  I ! 

THE  STARS 

With  your  strange  and  wonderful  light,  so  far,  yet 
seemingly  so  near,  as  you  shine,  independent,  all- 
glorious,  I  adore  you!  What  would  you  have  more? 
How  I  should  love  to  grasp  you,  to  own  you,  to  have 
you  for  my  very  own !  I  have  asked  for  you,  but  alas ! 
Each  glittering  star  in  the  resplendent  heavens, 
I  know  I  have  visited  them  all,  as  they  meet  me  each 
eve!  Then  my  heart  rejoices;  but  when  the  heavens 
are  dark,  my  soul  is  sadly  depressed.  Shine  on, 
wondrous  beauties,  so  silvery,  so  full  of  love  and  light, 
as  you  dance  and  flirt,  lighting  the  heavens  on  high 
with  your  fanciful  shapes  and  mystical  language ! 

We  saw  the  comet  again.  The  sky  was  a  deep  blue, 
or  blue-black  color.  The  comet  is  in  about  the  same 


58  ALINEADAY 

position.  The  tail  is  much  plainer  than  before.  The 
best  description  of  the  comet  is  that  it  resembles  a 
searchlight.  We  saw  it  at  four-fifteen,  just  as  day  was 
dawning. 

We  arrive  at  Colombo.  Ceylon  is  an  island  belong- 
ing to  India,  under  British  dominion.  The  week  has 
been  a  very  long  one,  and  very  warm.  We  are  half 
way  to  our  destination;  the  ship  is  fairly  pleasant. 
We  passed  through  the  comet  on  the  eighteenth, 
everybody  happy  and  thankful  to  the  divine  Provi- 
dence to  have  been  borne  safely  through,  for  the 
whole  world  was  anxious. 

We  heard  the  sad  news  of  the  death  of  King  Edward 
yesterday.  He  was  buried  the  twentieth  of  May. 
We  had  services  on  board  the  ship.  Archbishop 
Agus,  of  Manila,  is  on  board.  It  is  said  that  he  is 
likely  to  be  the  next  Pope.  He  is  accompanied  by  his 
secretary  and  a  retinue  of  servants.  They  read  mass 
every  morning  at  six  o'clock,  with  candles  burning, 
attired  in  flowing  lacy  robes,  and  crimson  sashes.  We 
have  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Archbishop  and 
find  him  not  only  a  priest  of  divinity  but  a  gentlemanly 
ship  companion.  It  is  a  delight  to  converse  with  him. 
Mr.  Middleton  and  the  father  sit  and  visit  for  hours, 
smoking  cigarettes.  I  enjoy  the  sweetmeats  that  he 
brings  me  every  few  days.  He  possesses  a  charming 
personality.  A  comfortable  sort  of  smile  plays  about 
his  countenance;  he  has  a  full  round  face  and  expres- 
sive eyes.  He  has  a  cultivated  voice,  of  a  rich  deep 
tone,  and  speaks  with  a  studied  expression  that  holds 
one's  attention,  and  makes  one  wish  for  more 
acquaintances  of  the  same  type.  His  spirited  and 
intelligent  conversation  is  a  veritable  feast  for  the 
mind.  Splendid  father,  I  am  your  most  devoted 
admirer ! 

I  am  going  now  to  make  a  toilette  for  East  India,  to 
go  ashore  in  the  sultry,  stifling  heat.  We  passed  an 
island  this  morning  at  six  o'clock,  where  two  thousand 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  59 

natives  live  and  grow  cocoanuts.  The  rats  almost 
take  this  island  bodily  and  destroy  about  three- 
fourths  of  the  crop  each  year. 

Colombo  is  a  beautiful  city,  though  somewhat 
flat.  Large  quantities  of  rice,  tea,  tropical  fruits  of 
every  description — cocoanuts, mangoes,  a  fruit  like  our 
popo,  bread  fruit,  mangostinos,  known  as  the 
"heavenly  fruit."  It  is  unlike  any  other  fruit  I  have 
ever  seen,  resembling  a  caramel  in  a  bitter  shell.  It  is 
cream  in  color;  the  shell  is  dark  brown  and  the  center 
is  like  the  filling  of  a  cream  caramel — perfectly 
delicious.  The  cocoanuts  are  especially  abundant, 
also  jack-fruit.  The  people  of  India  are  small  of 
stature,  very  black,  and  have  straight  hair.  The 
men  wear  their  hair  beautifully  brushed  and  dressed 
with  tortoise  shell  hoop  combs.  The  women  are  very, 
very  small;  they  wear  earrings  in  the  tops  of  their 
ears;  some  have  holes  in  their  noses  and  wear  orna- 
ments of  shell;  others  wear  a  sort  of  brass  hook; 
some  are  adorned  with  anklets,  bracelets  and  strings  of 
beads — very,  very  large  ones.  They  wear  a  cloth 
wound  around  them  and  a  short  bolero  jacket,  edged 
with  a  ruffle.  The  men  wear  only  a  skirt-cloth 
wrapped  around  them;  the  very  poor  wear  merely 
a  small  rag. 

The  lower  classes  carry  their  babies  nude.  They  are 
so  sweet  and  so  black,  some  of  them  with  only  a  string 
of  shells  around  their  waists. 

The  hotels  here  are  excellent.  We  had  tea  at  the 
Pagoda,  the  large  tea-house  of  the  village. 

We  spent  three  hours  in  a  'rickshaw.  My,  how  I 
like  this  way  of  going!  Mr.  Middleton  had  a  dankoa, 
with  the  usual  rag  wrapped  about  him,  and  a  beautiful 
handmade  shirt  or  vest,  the  material  resembling  Irish 
crochet.  He  was  very  small,  very  black,  and  very 
fleet  of  foot.  We  tried  to  buy  his  shirt,  which  was 
really  a  work  of  art,  but  as  it  was  all  he  had  on,  he  did 
not  seem  very  anxious  to  part  with  it.  The  'richshaw 
is  rubber-tired  and  very  comfortable,  with  curtains  and 


60  ALINEADAY 

a  top  for  use  in  rainy  weather.  We  had  a  few  drops  of 
rain  while  here. 

We  visited  Cinnamon  Park.  We  noticed  a  number 
of  banyan  trees.  The  branches  droop  to  the  ground, 
and  take  root  again.  They  are  decidedly  picturesque. 
One  was  more  than  one  hundred  feet  in  circumference. 
Ceylon,  India,  is  the  home  of  many  precious  jewels. 
Many  of  the  world's  most  clever  lapidaries  have  their 
headquarters  here. 

The  merchants  peddle  their  wares  in  the  streets. 
They  take  you  by  the  arm,  and  nearly  pull  you  off 
your  feet  to  come  into  their  shops  and  "have  a  look." 
We  were  glad  to  return  to  the  ship  for  dinner,  as  it 
was  extremely  hot  on  shore.  We  have  enjoyed  it  very 
much.  It  was  especially  lovely  at  night  to  see  the 
many  twinkling  lights  of  the  city,  and  to  feel  ourselves 
gliding  dreamily  farther  and  farther  out  into  the 
silent  sea. 

A  lovely  clear  sky,  with  the  moon  hanging  above, 
shedding  her  silvery  beams  over  the  shimmering  sea, 
as  we  move  to  the  west.  All  seems  so  reposeful.  Our 
next  stop  will  be  Penang,  another  island  of  India. 

MAY  25 

Another  disappointment.  We  did  not  arrive  at 
Penang  before  five  p.  m.  It  was  very  warm,  hardly 
a  breeze  stirring.  We  just  lounged  about,  with  hardly 
any  life  in  us.  I  did  so  long  to  do  something.  The 
evenings  after  dinner  are  delightful,  thanks  to  the 
moon,  who  sheds  her  languid  light  just  in  front  of  the 
bow  of  the  ship.  (They  say  that  the  ship  really  makes 
love  when  she  is  tied  to  her  bow.)  In  the  midst  of  this 
glorious  calm  of  sea  and  sky,  a  cup  of  black  coffee 
beside  us,  it  is  no  less  than  heavenly  to  glide  along,  and 
dream  a  real  "Midsummer  Night's  Dream." 

MAY  24 

We  passed  the  Island  of  Sumatra.  This  island  is 
a  Dutch  possession.  The  natives  resemble  the  Malays 


AROUND     THE    WORLD  61 

in  appearance.  Sumatra  is  very  rich  in  gold,  silver, 
iron,  lead  and  precious  stones.  Tigers,  leopards,  lions, 
etc.,  are  abundant  in  this  region.  We  saw  the  port 
where  the  Russian  vessels  coaled  on  their  way  to  Port 
Arthur. 

A  MONKEY  STORY 

We  have  met  a  gentleman  from  Java.  He  is  our 
table  companion,  and  is  full  of  good  stories.  Certain 
neighbors  of  his  in  Java  owned  a  large  monkey.  He 
escaped  one  night,  got  on  the  roof  of  the  house,  and 
turned  up  every  tile  on  it.  The  next  day  it  rained  and 
the  place  was  flooded.  The  monkey  came  down  and 
made  himself  comfortable  in  a  rocking  chair  while  it 
rained.  He  proved  so  vicious  that  his  owners  were 
unable  to  recapture  him  and  were  compelled  to  shoot 
him — a  sad  finish  for  Mr.  Mischievous  Monkey. 

MAY  26 

Penang:  The  harbor  is  quaint,  with  its  many 
boatmen — Hindoos,  Chinese  and  Malays.  The  boats 
have  eyes — it  is  an  old  tradition  that  boats  need  eyes 
that  they  may  see  their  way.  The  fishing  vessels 
have  straw  matting  sails  and  are  rigged  in  the  most 
extraordinary  shapes,  a  sort  of  scalloped  effect; 
they  call  them  sangpans.  They  have  a  peculiar 
manner  of  rowing — a  sort  of  over-handed  stroke. 
They  pole  them  standing  in  the  stern. 

We  took  a  victoria  and  drove  to  the  Siamese  temple, 
about  five  miles  from  Penang,  through  miles  of  cocoa- 
nut  groves.  The  trees  seem  to  grow  so  pretty  and 
clean,  and  are  loaded  with  nuts — the  crop  will  be 
gathered  in  about  six  weeks.  Here  the  mangostino 
grows,  also  the  dorin.  This  last  named  fruit  grows  on 
a  tall  tree,  is  about  the  size  of  a  cocoanut,  or  larger, 
with  a  rough  burr  like  a  thistle.  It  has  the  most 
terrible  odor  imaginable — it  is  almost  unendurable. 
This  is  the  season  when  there  are  large  numbers  of 
them  on  the  trees.  The  natives  are  extremely  fond  of 


62  ALINEADAY 

this  fruit;  they  say  the  centre  is  delicious,  but  we  will 
never  know  its  flavor,  the  odor  being  quite  enough. 

There  are  many  nice  homes,  handsome  public 
buildings,  fine  streets,  autos,  schools,  orphans'  homes, 
and  all  the  up-to-date  touches  one  would  expect  to 
find  in  a  modern  city.  Many  English  live  here, 
Germans  galore,  and  great  numbers  of  Chinese. 

We  had  lunch  at  the  Oriental  Hotel,  where  they 
served  an  excellent  meal.  The  homes  of  the  people 
are  worthy  of  study,  and  the  dear  little  babies  espe- 
cially interest  me.  I  saw  the  first  Chinese  lady  with 
small  feet.  Poor  soul,  hobbling  about,  her  foot  was 
about  an  inch  and  a  half  long!  Most  of  the  shippers 
here  are  Chinese  also,  and  again  one  seems  to  be  in 
another  world.  It  is  all  so  strange  and  so  fascinating. 

We  walked  about  a  half  a  mile  to  the  temple  and 
ascended  a  flight  of  stairs,  for  the  temple  is  built  on 
the  top  of  a  terraced  hill.  There  is  a  pond  with  three 
hundred  turtles  in  it  and  another  containing  goldfish. 
They  pray  to  these  fish  and  to  their  two  gods  Buddhas. 
They  are  wooden  idols.  Each  temple  has  one,  two,  or 
even  three  gods,  all  different.  Each  Buddha  has  a 
servant  and  a  boat.  They  give  entertainments  for 
Buddha  in  the  shape  of  fireworks,  upon  these  steps 
or  in  this  terraced  garden.  These  images  of  Buddha 
are  gilded,  with  most  hideous  faces,  and  are  seated  in 
a  squatting  position. 

There  are  great  numbers  of  blind  and  crippled 
beggars  here,  as  in  every  other  country.  The  private 
homes  are  small,  but  fairly  clean.  Each  home  has 
a  Buddha  and  an  altar.  Candles  are  burned  all  day 
before  these  altars.  The  natives  sleep  on  the  floor  at 
night,  on  a  straw  mat  and  a  wooden  pillow.  They 
wear  very  little  clothing. 

We  are  now  within  sixty  degrees  of  the  equator. 
It  is  delightfully  cool,  with  a  calm  sea  and  all  is  well. 
We  are  sitting  about  in  delicious  idleness,  as  the  good 
ship  bears  us  swiftly  and  quietly  to  our  destination. 
We  have  a  prince  on  board;  also  the  Hon.  Edward 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  6$ 

Cole,  of  London,  brother  of  Lord  something-or-other. 
He  is  our  table  companion,  and  seemingly  just  human; 
he  eats  like  all  the  rest  of  us.  The  prince  and  his 
servants — six  in  number — and  his  young  wife,  are 
about  to  take  the  boat. 

MAY  27— SINGAPORE 

We  arrive  at  Singapore  on  the  twenty-seventh  of 
May,  at  seven  a.  m.  The  harbor  is  very  beautiful, 
with  many,  many  steamers  and  sailing  vessels  of  every 
description.  We  saw  the  largest  sailing  boat  in  the 
world — a  wonderful  craft,  also  equipped  with  a  thou- 
sand horse  power  engine. 

As  usual,  we  encounter  many  Chinese,  Hindoos, 
and  Malays  here.  They  all  speak  Malay.  The  police 
are  called  "  malta-malta, "  pronounced  malta-e-ye. 
We  visit  the  National  Museum,  where  there  is  a 
wonderful  collection  of  butterflies.  We  saw  a  remarka- 
ble exhibit  of  stuffed  animals  from  all  the  different 
islands  and  Oriental  countries;  also  fishes  of  every 
variety,  fruits,  and  shells — India  is  noted  for  its  rare 
and  beautiful  shells. 

We  rode  in  a  'rickshaw  to  the  Botanical  Garden,  a 
pretty  place  and  very  spacious.  We  did  not  see  a  great 
deal  of  it,  as  we  were  compelled  to  walk  and  the 
distance  was  very  great.  We  had  lunch,  known  in  this 
country  as"tiffin,"  at  the  European  Hotel,  a  thoroughly 
comfortable  establishment.  We  had  splendid  curried 
chicken  and  wonderful  chutney,  the  best  either  of  us 
had  ever  eaten. 

We  purchased  some  East  Indian  laces;  saw  the 
Chinese  making  bamboo  furniture,  and  many  high- 
born Chinese  ladies  hobbling  about,  and  dear  little 
babies  strapped  to  the  nurses'  backs.  They  have  a 
shaved  spot  on  the  crown  of  the  girls'  heads;  but  they 
allow  the  boys'  hair  to  grow  and  begin  to  braid  it  into 
a  little  cue  from  earliest  infancy.  The  poor  braid  rags 
into  the  hair;  the  upper  classes  use  ribbon  or  silk  cord. 

We  saw  numberless  cocoanut  and  banana  trees,  and 


64  ALINEADAY 

wonderful  palms,  with  leaves  like  the  roof  of  a  house. 
They  are  building  a  new  landing  pier  at  a  cost  of  two 
million  dollars.  The  Chinese  coal  their  vessels  in 
baskets,  on  a  bamboo  pole.  They  all  work  very  hard. 

In  Singapore  one  begins  to  get  a  touch  of  real 
Oriental  life.  One  becomes  lazy  and  indolent;  the 
Oriental  fever  takes  possession  of  one;  we  are  inclined 
to  let  things  slip  by  and  take  their  course. 

Everyone  dresses  in  white,  and  everything  is 
so  clean.  We  have  a  four  days'  run  to  Hong 
Kong.  It  is  extremely  hot — almost  impossible  to  live 
or  to  breathe.  We  are  now  in  the  China  Sea,  having 
left  the  Straits  of  Malacca  at  Singapore.  We  saw 
two  Russian  vessels  that  had  been  captured  and  sunk 
by  the  Japanese.  They  are  now  afloat,  and  they  are 
being  used  as  training  ships. 

JUNE  1— HONG  KONG 

Hong  Kong  is  built  on  the  side  of  a  rocky  mountain. 
It  is  a  pretty  town.  The  Chinese  here  live  in  boats, 
on  the  water,  many  of  them,  propelling  them  with  two 
long  paddles,  with  a  rocking  motion.  Entire  families 
live  on  these  boats — they  are  their  homes.  On  them 
they  raise  ducks,  chickens  and  children — many, 
many  children.  They  cook  rice,  vegetables  and  fish, 
and  are  fairly  clean.  They  carry  their  babies  strapped 
on  their  backs  with  a  square  piece  of  cloth.  Often 
these  infants  are  strapped  to  the  backs  of  the  children ; 
the  children  play,  and  the  little  tots  bob  and  toss 
about,  but  do  not  seem  to  mind  in  the  least;  they 
rock  and  roll  merrily  on. 

Our  first  introduction  to  the  city  was  a  dead 
Chinaman  being  towed  like  a  dead  turtle,  face  down- 
ward, a  rope  around  his  neck,  tied  to  the  stern  of  a 
row  boat.  Another  Chinaman  was  towing  him  ashore. 
Everybody  was  laughing  and  seemed  quite  hilarious 
over  it,  but  Mr.  Middleton  and  I  were  inclined  to  take 
it  seriously.  Mr.  M.  said:  "Poor  devil!"  I  retorted: 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  65 

"Mr.  M.,  wait,  I  want  to  see  him!"  Mr.  M.:  "Oh, 
come  on;  they  will  have  to  get  a  horse  and  wagon  and 
take  him  away!"  As  there  is  not  a  horse  in  Hong 
Kong,  it  struck  me  as  being  very  funny. 

So  on  we  went  to  the  top  of  the  peak.  We  had 
lunch  at  a  German  restaurant,  made  a  few  purchases, 
and  took  a  'rickshaw  for  "home" — the  boat.  The 
vessel  always  presents  a  busy  scene,  loading  and 
unloading  freight,  and  people  coming  and  going 
incessantly.  This  is  a  very  rocky  region,  and  the 
vegetation  is  very  scanty.  Consequently  there  is 
little  to  see.  The  usual  allotment  of  English  soldiers 
is  stationed  here. 

Just  before  reaching  Hong  Kong  we  passed  the  Bay 
of  Sardeau,  whence  the  Russian  fleet  sailed  to  meet 
its  doom.  Sardeau  is  under  the  control  of  France.  We 
have  passed  many  fishing  craft — as  many  as  thirty- 
eight  in  a  fleet.  They  are  certainly  a  picture  as  they 
sail  by,  with  their  peculiar  square  sails.  We  saw  a 
jelly  fish  in  the  harbor  of  Hong  Kong. 

They  have  severe  wind  storms  here,  known  as 
typhoons,  somewhat  similar  to  our  cyclones.  They 
sweep  away  houses  and  boats,  and  drown  hundreds  of 
people  each  season. 

THE  CHINAMAN 

He  is  really  a  fine  type  of  physical  development; 
larger  than  I  had  thought  to  find  him  in  his  native 
country.  He  is  meek  and  hard-working,  and  has  but 
one  ambition — that  is,  to  some  day  retire,  wear  fine 
silks,  spotless  linen,  and  long  finger-nails,  with  plenty 
of  servants,  and  to  be  able  to  ride — never  to  walk. 

They  are  clever  merchants,  having  a  keen  com- 
mercial insight.  They  often  become  very  wealthy  and 
live  elegantly.  They  have  a  passion  for  pearls,  and 
own  some  of  the  finest  in  the  world.  There  are  many 
absolutely  perfect  pearls  in  China,  and  have  been 
for  centuries  past. 

Their  cue  is  their  special  pride:  it  is  brushed,  oiled, 


66  ALINEADAY 

and  always  well  groomed,  even  among  the  poorest 
classes.  The  street  barbers  are  a  great  curiosity  to  us; 
they  go  about  the  streets  trimming  cues  and  shaving, 
with  merely  a  little  stool,  stopping  in  front  of  the 
stores  or  homes.  The  Chinese  method  of  shaving  is 
decidedly  different  from  ours — they  use  neither  lather 
nor  water. 

The  Chinese  salute  each  other  with  three  very  low 
bows,  rubbing  their  knees  with  their  hands,  and 
making  a  noise  like  "She!  She!"  The  women  also 
squat  almost  to  the  ground,  three  times.  The  men  rule 
the  women,  as  in  all  Oriental  countries,  but,  I  am  told, 
in  a  kindly  way.  Most  of  their  life  is  passed  in-doors — 
one  rarely  meets  a  woman  on  the  street.  We  have  one 
on  board  this  ship,  a  mandarin's  wife  (a  mandarin 
means  a  wealthy  merchant).  Poor  soul,  trying  to 
hobble  about  on  her  tiny  feet!  They  wear  their  hair 
stuck  back  in  a  simple  knot,  with  a  great  deal  of 
pomade  on  it.  Some  still  black  their  teeth  and  shave 
their  eyebrows,  but  these  customs,  together  with  the 
small  feet,  are  rapidly  going  out. 

The  kiss  is  absolutely  unknown  to  the  Chinese 
people:  they  never  kiss,  but  merely  pat  each  other 
on  the  shoulder  in  the  most  endearing  way.  Not  a 
bad  idea. 

They  use  no  chairs,  but  sit  on  the  floor.  They  wear 
mandarin's  coats  and  pants ;  the  high-born  lady  wears 
a  straight  skirt.  The  babies  are  so  sweet  and  so  fat! 
They  are  dressed  in  the  funniest  little  pants  imagin- 
able. They  wear  these  curious  little  pants  and  coats — 
a  miniature  of  their  father's  and  mother's — from  the 
very  beginning  of  life.  They  have  no  baby  clothes. 
They  look  like  little  old  men  and  women  when  they 
start  on  life's  journey.  Their  caps  resemble  skull  caps, 
with  a  round  hole  in  the  crown,  and  they  put  bracelets 
on  their  ankles  and  wrists.  They  sleep  on  their 
stomachs.  They  never  crawl,  but  lie  on  their 
stomachs,  propping  themselves  up  on  their  chubby 
little  arms. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  07 

JUNE  4— SHANGHAI 

We  land  at  Shanghai  on  the  morning  of  June  fourth. 
We  are  unable  to  get  into  the  harbor — it  is  too  shallow. 
We  go  ashore  in  a  tender.  The  harbor  is  very  pretty ; 
many  boats,  including  Chinese  sampans,  and  many 
small  craft  resembling  pumpkins  with  heads  and  tails 
on  them.  These  are  all  endowed  with  eyes,  so  that 
the  boat  can  see. 

Here  we  have  the  'rickshaw  again,  that  handiest  of 
all  the  relics  of  the  past,  and  the  coolie,  the  beast  of 
burden  of  the  east.  Mr.  Middleton  says  "Poor  devil, 
he  asks  so  little — and  gets  it!" 

\Ve  go  ashore  to  the  Palace  Hotel,  a  delightfully 
cool  and  up-to-date  place,  built  about  five  years  ago. 
We  take  a  victoria  and  drive  all  over  the  city — our 
first  drive  in  the  east.  There  is  plenty  of  life  in  this 
place,  said  by  people  who  know  to  be  the  Paris  of  the 
Orient.  Things  evidently  move  here  at  a  very  fast 
pace.  They  have  the  Chitz  system,  and  sign  checks, 
paying  once  a  year.  We  took  a  guide  and  went  to  the 
Meo-hoo-shung  tea  house,  or  "The  Tea  House  of  the 
Willow  Tree,"  an  edifice  in  typical  Chinese  pattern, 
more  than  six  hundred  years  old.  It  looked  as  though 
it  would  fall  down  every  moment.  It  is  built  in  a  low, 
swampy  place,  with  crooked  bridges  to  and  from  it  to 
keep  off  evil  spirits.  They  built  their  country  roads 
crooked  and  zig-zag  for  the  same  purpose. 

We  passed  through  the  gates  of  the  Walled  City, 
hundreds  of  years  old — Chinese  history  dates  back  to 
2000  B.  C.  Inside  this  Walled  City  is  the  old 
Chinese  quarter  proper,  with  very  narrow  streets 
and  small  one-story  shops,  most  of  them  about  four- 
teen feet  square.  Here  entire  families  live,  sleeping 
on  a  straw  mat  with  a  wooden  pillow,  cut  like  a  boot- 
jack; they  roll  the  mat  up  during  the  day.  Here 
they  make  curious  and  beautiful  vases,  incense, 
carved  ivory,  bamboo,  Chinese  lanterns,  embroidered 
silks,  and  silk  tassels;  also  all  kinds  of  jewelry;  here 
are  tailors,  barbers  and  dentists,  and  vendors  of 


68  ALINEADAY 

lottery  tickets.  However,  there  are  no  millinery 
stores,  for  here  the  women  go  bareheaded.  They  have 
a  few  hairdressing  shops,  which  they  style  "Toilette 
Clubs  for  Ladies." 

They  all  appear  to  work  so  hard  and  so  patiently, 
with  a  happy  smile  on  their  faces,  for  just  an  existence. 
This  existence  consists  of  a  bowl  of  rice  and  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  cups  of  tea  per  day.  Tea  is  to  them 
what  beer  is  to  the  German,  wine  to  the  Frenchman 
and  Italian,  whiskey  and  soda  to  the  Englishman, 
and  the  cocktail  and  highball  to  the  American. 

We  visited  the  home  of  a  mandarin,  which  means 
a  rich  gentleman  of  high  degree.  He  had  five  wives, 
each  one  of  whom  lives  in  a  dear  little  house  of  her 
own.  They  are  all  grouped  together  in  a  charming 
garden.  Here  also  is  the  club  where  the  high-class 
Chinese  congregate  every  morning  at  ten  o'clock, 
to  burn  incense  before  a  wooden  god,  drink  tea,  and 
chat  over  the  events  of  the  hour.  The  prison  and  the 
joss  house,  or  Chinese  church,  adjoin  the  park  and 
the  gate  where  they  behead  criminals;  decapitation  is 
the  present  capital  punishment  for  serious  offenses. 
Around  all  these  buildings  is  a  high  wall — about 
twenty  feet — on  the  top  of  which  are  fantastic  dragons 
carved  of  stone,  typical  Chinese  works  of  art. 

The  joss  house  is  where  the  fat  wooden  gods  sit 
and  grin.  Candles  and  incense  burn  before  them 
eternally,  and  they  bow  to  the  very  ground  to  pray. 
Over  them  they  hang  two  sampans — boats — for 
their  private  use.  In  another  corner  four  wooden 
servants  and  four  wooden  soldiers  are  ever  at  the 
disposal  of  the  deity.  One  huge  idol  is  the  first  god. 
Every  church  has  its  five  gods,  and  each  one  its  special 
patron  deity.  Each  person  goes  in  and  prays  for 
himself,  holding  private  services. 

The  joss-man  wears  no  cue — his  head  is  shaven — 
and  he  is  simply  a  watchman.  Each  hideous  idol  has 
a  live  watchman  to  keep  him  company.  This  indi- 
vidual wears  a  long,  gray  kimono,  and  with  this  cos- 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  69 

tume,  added  to  his  shaven  head,  he  is  indeed  an 
oddity.  One  cannot  help  but  like  this  heathen,  for  he 
is  so  sincere. 

Many  have  turned  Christian  and  have  accepted  our 
God,  but  hold  on  to  the  old  one  to  make  sure.  People 
who  live  among  them  declare  that  it  is  an  endless 
task  to  convert  them,  and  that  in  reality  they  never 
give  up  their  old  gods  for  the  new  One.  For  four 
thousand  years  they  have  gone  on  in  this  way.  It  is 
innate  for  them  to  worship  these  wooden  gods,  and 
one  can  hardly  blame  them  for  not  seeing  things  as 
we  would  have  them  do. 

We  drove  five  miles  out  into  the  country,  a  lovely 
landscape,  where  we  had  a  glimpse  of  the  Chinese  as 
a  farmer.  We  saw  them  gathering  silk  cocoons  from 
the  mulberry  trees.  Many,  many  Chinese  carry  two 
large  boxes  on  a  bamboo  pole,  over  their  shoulder. 

We  visited  a  pagoda,  the  oldest  in  China,  so  quaint, 
so  antique,  so  picturesque,  'way  out  here  in  these 
lonely  woods.  It  is  apparently  tumbling  down,  and 
looked  positively  weird.  Here  we  encountered  a  dozen 
or  more  beggars.  There  are  two  joss  houses  near  this 
pagoda.  It  is  one  hundred  degrees  Fahrenheit,  the 
warmest  day  we  have  felt. 

The  English  merchants  have  a  concession  here,  and 
the  French  and  Germans  as  well,  but  it  is  all  virtually 
under  the  control  of  the  British.  It  is  customary  for 
a  Chinaman  to  have  his  coffin  made  during  life;  when 
it  is  finished,  he  gives  a  grand  fete  and  entertainment; 
it  is  then  placed  in  a  "coffin  temple,"  where  they  hold 
services  often.  They  all  gather  together,  making 
a  sort  of  "coffin  club."  Not  a  half  bad  idea! 

The  sedan  chairs  of  the  noble  ladies  are  quite  gay 
affairs.  They  are  painted  a  brilliant  Chinese  red, 
high-lighted  with  gold,  with  mirrors  cut  in,  or  designed, 
all  over  it,  seemingly  inlaid.  Four  coolies  carry  or 
swing  it  along;  the  noble  lady  is  entirely  enclosed, 
without  a  breath  of  air. 

Thus  ends  our  delightful  visit  to  Shanghai. 


70  ALINEADAY 

SINGTOW— JUNE  7 

This  is  a  German  village,  founded  about  twelve 
years  ago,  leased  by  the  Germans  from  China  for 
ninety-nine  years.  Here  we  are  saluted  by  five 
German  men-o'-war,  with  the  Admiral  and  the  Duke 
and  Duchess  of  Brunswick  on  board.  The  ships  were 
all  dressed,  and  it  was  certainly  a  delightful  welcome. 
At  the  dock  the  reception  committee  met  us  with 
more  music  and  excitement,  and  Dutch  and  Germans 
galore. 

We  took  a  'rickshaw,  but  saw  very  little  of  any 
interest  on  our  six  hours'  ride.  On  every  hand  we  saw 
such  manifestations  of  cruelty  on  the  part  of  the 
Germans,  domineering  over  the  unfortunate  Chinese, 
that  we  returned  to  the  vessel  in  a  very  bad  humor. 
The  Chinaman  here  is  at  his  poorest:  indeed,  the 
worst  types  that  we  have  met.  They  are  exceedingly 
dirty ;  their  hair  is  so  unkempt. 

Everything  here  is  hand  labor.  We  saw  one 
thousand  Chinese  disembarking  from  a  work  tug; 
it  was  certainly  a  wonderful  sight.  This  dock  and 
landing  were  made  by  hand  labor.  The  city  has  five 
thousand  inhabitants. 

The  Duke  and  Duchess  seemed  to  be  quiet,  genteel 
people.  He  is  a  man  of  about  sixty  years:  the  frau 
about  twenty-four,  and  quite  handsome.  They  were 
accompanied  by  four  servants,  an  artist,  a  secretary 
and  his  wife.  The  Duchess's  lady-in-waiting  was 
about  as  graceful  as  a  gentle  cow.  They  had  a  great 
wagon  load  of  baggage.  They  left  the  boat  at  Singtow. 
They  appeared  rather  bored.  Thus  ended  royalty  with 
us  and  we  with  them. 

We  leave  for  Nagasaki,  Japan,  a  twenty -four  hours' 
run. 

Nagasaki  is  a  lovely  village.  Here  we  have  our  first 
glimpse  of  Japan,  and  the  life  delighted  us.  Every- 
thing is  immaculately  clean,  so  tiny,  and  the  people  so 
dainty,  that  it  is  indeed  a  charming  picture.  The 
harbor  is  beautiful.  The  land  is  very  mountainous, 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  71 

and  many  dwellings  are  built  up  in  the  hills,  nestling 
among  the  queer  old  crooked  trees. 

Here  are  located  the  largest  shipbuilding  yards  in 
the  east.  All  the  Japanese  war  vessels  are  built  here. 
The  women  help  to  coal  the  boats,  but  they  keep  so 
very  clean  that  they  are  a  picture.  They  tie  their 
heads  up  in  white  towels,  and  wear  little  blue  jumpers. 
After  their  task  is  done,  they  wash  their  hands  and 
faces,  put  on  fresh  linen,  and  go  away  in  boats,  singing 
merrily.  They  all  have  happy  faces,  though  they  are 
obliged  to  coal  boats. 

We  purchased  some  tortoise  shell  here,  where  they 
have  some  of  the  most  wonderful  handiwork  in  this 
line.  We  saw  the  school,  the  flower  market,  the  fish 
and  vegetable  markets,  all  scrupulously  clean,  and 
everything  "just  so." 

The  tiny  Japanese  homes  resemble  dolls'  houses. 
They  are  without  tables,  chairs,  or  beds.  The  windows 
are  of  paper,  or  slats  of  wood  that  slide  behind  each 
other.  Every  home  has  a  diminutive  garden  in  front 
of  it,  with  attractive  little  beds  of  flowers  and  ferns, 
and  cedar  trees,  while  paper  Japanese  lanterns  are 
used  to  illuminate  the  house  and  grounds. 

After  leaving  Nagasaki,  we  enter  the  Inland  Sea. 

This  Inland  Sea  is  a  most  picturesque  body  of 
water,  with  its  ragged  and  jagged  coast  line  and 
hundreds  of  fishing  boats  of  every  imaginable  size  and 
style,  darting  about  among  the  innumerable  islands, 
large  and  small.  The  cultivated  hillsides  on  these 
islands  are  true  works  of  art. 

They  are  cultivated  here  and  there  in  odd  shapes  and 
patches,  raising  vegetables  and  rice  for  the  Japanese, 
who  live  in  small  houses  near  the  water.  These  rice 
fields  (known  here  as  rice  Paddies)  are  very  small, 
but  the  product  is  the  choicest  in  Japan.  It  is  all 
exported,  other  cheaper  grades  being  imported  for  the 
natives. 

The  fishermen  here  are  strangely  garbed — in 
kimonos;  one  can  see  them  raising  and  lowering  the 


72  ALINEADAY 

masts,  hopping  about  on  the  decks,  with  these 
kimonos  flying  wildly  in  the  breeze.  One  might 
think  them  clumsy,  but  they  are  grace  itself.  It  is 
unlike  any  other  place  in  the  world,  this  Inland  Sea, 
with  its  picturesque  rice  fields,  the  lovely  islands  and 
hillsides,  clothed  in  verdure  of  every  beautiful  shade 
of  green.  O,  beautiful  world!  wonderful  world! 
The  more  I  see  of  your  marvels,  the  more  wonderful 
you  seem ! 

The  quaint,  crooked  trees  on  the  mountain  sides 
add  to  the  charm  of  this  exquisite  scenery.  I  hope 
that  my  memory  will  retain  forever  this  picture  of  all 
pictures. 

We  darted  lightly  about,  dodging  these  numerous 
jagged  islands.  There  must  have  been  terrific  volcanic 
disturbances  in  past  ages  to  have  caused  such  strange 
and  fantastic  formations. 

KOBE— JUNE  10 

This  is  a  beautiful  harbor,  surrounded  by  hills  and 
low  mountains,  making  a  very  jagged  horizon.  They 
are  constructing  a  new  pier  here.  This  is  the  busiest 
harbor  yet.  The  principal  shipping  of  Japan  leaves 
this  dock.  The  cargo  that  we  take  away  on  this  boat 
is  amazing. 

The  Japanese  is  not  much  liked  because  of  his 
cunning.  He  is  clever,  shrewd,  always  quick  and 
eager  to  learn,  and  he  gives  a  kick  for  a  kick,  while 
the  meek  Chinaman  grieves  and  moans. 

We  stopped  at  the  Oriental  Hotel,  a  splendid  place. 
Later  we  visit  the  shops,  buy  kimonos,  and  drive  all 
over  Kobe  in  a  'rickshaw.  Once  it  rained,  but  after 
the  weather  cleared  and  the  sun  shone,  we  took  another 
drive.  We  visit  the  waterfall,  a  beautiful  cascade  of 
water.  A  wonderful  sight  were  the  lamps  and  lanterns, 
and  the  school  children  with  their  books  tied  up  in  a 
square  cloth.  Many  Chinese  children  were  here  also. 

We  are  now  enroute  to  Yokohama. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  73 

YOKOHAMA— JUNE  12 

It  is  a  beautiful,  warm,  sunny  Sunday  morning.  We 
were  so  happy  to  land,  and  we  left  our  home  of  six 
weeks,  the  "York,"  without  a  regret.  We  went 
through  the  customs  fairly  quickly,  and  took  a 
'rickshaw  for  the  Oriental  Hotel,  a  beautiful  place, 
elegantly  furnished,  with  excellent  Japanese  cooking. 
We  occupied  one  room  and  a  sun  parlor,  overlooking 
the  bay.  WTe  are  gazing  out  over  the  blue  Pacific 
Ocean,  where  we  will  soon  be  on  our  way  home. 

The  shops  of  Yokohama  are  fascinating — they 
fairly  take  one's  breath.  Wonderful  crepes,  soft  and 
clingy,  in  marvelous  soft  tints  of  every  shade;  em- 
broideries beyond  description,  so  beautiful  and  so 
artistic;  exquisite  water  colors;  carved  ivory  and 
silver  filigree  work  to  suit  the  most  capricious  and 
artistic  taste  and  temperament. 

Mrs.  McClure,  with  whom  we  traveled  for  three 
weeks,  has  just  sent  to  me  at  my  hotel,  a  wonderful 
bouquet  of  sweet  peas  and  white  roses,  made  in  the 
form  of  a  chou,  the  roses  in  the  center,  and  the 
fragrant  peas  around  them — the  most  beautiful  thing 
of  the  kind  I  have  ever  seen.  We  go  to  the  McClure's 
for  tiffin  Friday. 

TOKIO— JUNE  24 

Four  hours'  run  from  Yokohama.  Tokio,  the  capi- 
tal of  Japan,  is  a  beautiful  city,  with  a  population 
of  two  million.  The  parks  are  lovely.  In  this 
city  there  are  five  hundred  miles  of  electric  railway 
lines,  as  against  five  hundred  miles  of  steam  railways 
in  Japan.  The  city  spreads  over  quite  a  bit  of  ground; 
all  the  buildings  have  but  one  story,  on  account  of  the 
severe  earthquakes.  The  entire  city  is  strictly 
up-to-date.  The  palace  of  the  Emperor  and  Empress 
is  a  beautiful  edifice,  surrounded  by  stone  walls  three 
hundred  and  fifty  years  old,  with  a  double  gate 
system,  and  a  "moat,"  which  means  that  the  building 


74  ALINEADAY 

is  entirely  surrounded  by  water,   making  it  almost 
inaccessible. 

The  streets  are  well  cleaned,  and  every  spot  of  this 
charming  little  country  is  made  attractive:  the  pine 
trees  are  so  rugged  and  beautiful,  and  the  maples  with 
their  small,  delicate  leaves,  of  a  pallid  greenish  hue; 
the  cherry  trees,  with  their  peculiar  bark,  which  is 
almost  red  in  color.  The  cherry  tree  of  Japan  is  much 
larger  than  the  American  variety,  and  blossoms  the 
first  week  in  April,  the  blossoms  coming  before  the 
leaves.  The  blossoms  are  very  much  larger  than  ours, 
and  are  double.  They  remain  on  the  trees  only  three 
days;  the  leaves  appear  a  week  or  ten  days  later, 
and  within  fifty  days  the  fruit  has  come  and  gone. 
The  cherries  are  small  and  not  very  good,  being 
rather  tasteless.  The  plums,  peaches,  pears  and 
apricots  are  very  similar  to  our  own.  We  found  sun- 
flowers growing  here,  which  we  promptly  named 
"Sister  Indiana."  To  me,  the  most  beautiful  flower 
of  all  is  the  iris.  It  is  of  every  describable  shade,  and 
some  are  double.  It  grows  in  marshy,  wet  places: 
one  sees  it  everywhere  at  this  season  of  the  year. 
The  lotus  I  should  love  to  see,  but  they  bloom  in 
August,  opening  with  a  pop  before  sunrise.  The 
flowers  have  a  lovely  perfume,  and  are  very  white, 
something  like  our  pond  lilies. 

The  wistaria  is  very  pretty  here,  and  the  nastur- 
tiums cover  the  houses  and  porches  like  a  vine.  The 
morning  glory  seems  to  be  decidedly  at  home  in  this 
region,  and  there  is  no  end  to  the  height  it  will  grow. 
It  even  covers  entire  trees.  Everything  is  green  here, 
even  to  the  mountain  sides  and  everything  is  so  fresh 
and  clean. 

A  sort  of  pigeon  English  is  spoken  everywhere. 
The  shops  are  very  small,  like  the  people  and  their 
houses.  The  trees  are  small,  and  one  finds  low  seats 
everywhere.  On  the  trains — such  funny  little  trains, 
with  very  low  seats — the  most  uncomfortable  vehicles 
in  all  the  world — you  can  purchase  a  cup  of  tea,  and 


AROUND     THE     WORLD  75 

tea  pot,  for  four  cents,  or  two  cents   in  American 
money,  and  the  outfit  is  yours. 

KAMAKURA 

A  country  town,  about  forty  miles  from  Yokohama. 
One  travels  through  cultivated  lands,  innumerable 
rice  and  vegetable  farms,  and  through  beautiful 
wooded  country.  They  train  the  trees  on  bamboo 
arbors  about  five  feet  high,  built  directly  under  the 
trees,  and  the  result  is  a  roof  of  leaves.  They  tie  up 
in  paper  sacks  pears,  peaches,  apricots,  while  growing 
on  the  tree,  but  before  doing  so,  the  farmer  writes  his 
name,  or  that  of  his  shop,  on  the  fruit :  this  is  in  order 
that  the  product  may  be  preserved,  and  to  keep  Jthe 
insects  away. 

The  farms  are  small,  but  very  attractive;  the 
dwellings  are  tiny,  with  thatched  roofs,  and  beds  of 
lilies  growing  on  the  tops  of  them. 

In  Kamakura  is  the  largest  bronze  Buddha,  measur- 
ing three  and  a  half  feet  across  the  mouth.  It  is 
six  hundred  and  fifty  years  old,  and  is  located  in  the 
oldest  temple  in  Japan,  which  is  one  thousand  years 
old.  It  is  in  a  very  dilapidated  condition.  The 
bronze  idol  is  way  back  of  the  temple,  to  add  to  the 
mystery,  but  standing  in  the  open,  as  the  temple  was 
swept  away  by  the  sea  some  years  ago  and  only  the 
foundation  remains.  The  population  of  Japan 
increases  one-half  million  yearly. 

KIOTO — one  night's  run  from  Yokohama.  We  took 
a  sleeper,  such  a  funny  little  sleeper  as  it  was!  Not 
more  than  seven  feet  high — Mr.  Middleton  touched 
the  top  of  it.  The  car  was  so  uncomfortably  short 
that  I  could  not  undress,  and  slept  in  my  clothes.  Mr. 
Middleton  did  not  rest  well .  That  night  was  long,  indeed . 

We  arrived  on  a  beautiful,  sunny  Sunday  morning. 
We  had  a  guide  in  a  native  costume.  A  carriage  with 
two  awaited  us  at  the  station,  provided  by  the  guide. 
They  seldom  have  occasion  to  display  a  carriage  in  this 
locality,  and  we  were  stared  at  from  every  side. 


76  ALINEADAY 

THE  FOOTMAN.  Never  have  I  seen  a  man  work  so 
hard!  He  was  a  tall  fellow,  with  a  pointed  head,  and 
a  serious  sort  of  face — seemingly,  he  had  never  smiled 
in  his  life.  His  duty  was  to  view  every  spot  of  the 
way,  to  run  ahead  of  the  horses,  shouting  "A-hie! 
A-hie!"  At  every  crossing  he  ran  ahead,  stopped  the 
street  cars,  'rickshaws,  everything  had  to  stop.  I  was 
so  absorbed  in  him,  and  the  hard  work  he  was  doing 
that  I  forgot  to  notice  the  sights.  He  even  helped 
hold  the  carriage  back,  going  down  hill.  When  not 
doing  any  of  these  very  strenuous  things,  which 
rarely  happened,  he  rode  on  a  step  in  the  back  of  the 
vehicle.  Mr.  Middleton  and  I  decided  that  the  life  of 
a  footman  in  the  Orient  is  something  awful  indeed. 

The  driver  was  a  stiff,  stubby  Jap,  rather  old;  the 
horse  was  good,  and  full  of  life,  and  the  carriage  quite 
comfortable.  It  was  a  species  of  victoria,  and  had  no 
doubt  once  been  very  fine. 

Kioto  is  very  old  and  very  "  Jappy."  So  quiet,  and 
so  like  the  descriptions  one  reads  of  old  Japan.  The 
people  lead  a  very  peaceful  and  exclusive  existence. 
The  shops  all  seem  to  be  closed.  There  are  no  show 
windows,  and  it  is  necessary  to  go  in  the  back  way,  to 
ascend  a  flight  of  bamboo  stairs  in  the  rear  of  one  of 
these  small  shops,  to  see  the  wonderful  display  of 
whatever  the  merchant  may  handle.  It  is  considered 
very  bad  form  to  display  one's  wares  in  this  very 
conservative  little  town  of  Kioto. 

Once  in  the  store,  a  dozen  little  Japs  jump  up  from 
everywhere,  exclaiming:  "I  wait  you,  please!"  One 
is  simply  carried  away  by  their  exquisite  politeness 
and  their  eagerness  to  please. 

They  have  splendid  assortments  of  Cloisonne, 
china,  porcelains,  embroideries,  cut  velvet,  damascene 
ware,  and  lacquers,  more  expensive  than  jewels.  We 
bought  some  Japanese  shoes,  gaiters,  as  they  are 
called;  also  obis,  which  is  the  Japanese  sash,  bamboo 
flower  vases,  canes,  card  cases,  »painted  doilies,  and 
embroideries. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  77 

We  drove  all  over  the  city  and  stopped  at  the 
Mikado  Hotel,  the  most  Japanese  place  we  have  been 
in.  The  establishment  is  kept  by  Japanese,  with 
Japanese  help,  only.  The  waitresses  were  funny  little 
Jap  girls,  all  painted  up,  and  giggling.  They  looked 
like  toys.  The  food  was  well  cooked.  The  dining 
room  was  made  entirely  of  paper  and  glass,  lighted  by 
Japanese  lanterns,  hanging  gracefully  on  every  side. 
The  little  waitresses,  in  their  kimonos  and  obis, 
formed  a  most  charming  picture. 

The  hotel,  built  on  a  mountain  side,  commands 
a  delightful  view  of  the  city.  We  had  our  coffee  on 
the  porch,  overlooking  the  town;  it  was  delightfully 
cool,  and  away  in  the  distance  we  could  see  the  snowy 
crests  of  the  mountains.  We  can  only  think  of  some 
fairy  tale,  as  we  idly  sit  and  dream. 

Our  room  is  a  charming  paper  apartment,  with 
sliding  paper  doors,  bamboo  furniture,  drapery  of 
pretty  mosquito  net,  with  pink  and  white  iris  painted 
on  it.  Everything  is  so  fresh  and  dainty.  We  open 
our  little  window  and  sliding  doors  out  on  to  the 
balcony.  The  knobs  are  beautiful  red  Japanese  silk 
tassels. 

Considerable  manufacturing  is  done  here,  although 
the  place  seems  so  quiet.  Tomorrow  we  leave,  to  ride 
back  to  Yokohama  by  daylight. 

We  leave  Sunday  morning  for  Yokohama,  a  day's 
journey.  We  ride  all  day  through  a  beautiful  country, 
passing  hundreds  of  rice  fields,  and  picturesque  mills, 
short  distances  apart,  where  the  natives  are  working 
in  water  above  their  knees,  women  with  babies  on 
their  backs  included.  Their  little  homes  are  very 
attractive,  and  so  clean!  We  saw  the  tea  growing — 
a  beautiful  sight.  It  grows  on  a  low  bush-like  shrub, 
like  a  hedge,  so  green  and  pretty,  in  all  sorts  of 
crooked  patches  on  the  mountain  sides. 

These  queer  little  odd  shaped  patches  were  visible 
everywhere,  and  Mr.  Middleton  was  more  enthusiastic 
over  them  than  anything  else.  The  mountain  scenery 


78  ALINEADAY 

was  very  refreshing,  and  all  the  vegetation  was  a 
verdant  green.  We  saw  many  picturesque  creeks, 
streams  and  waterfalls.  The  day  passed  almost  before 
we  knew  it.  We  had  a  shower,  as  this  is  the  Japanese 
brea-ny-brea,  or  rainy  season.  A  shower  is  almost 
a  daily  occurrence. 

RICE 

This  is  the  month  (June)  when  the  Japanese  plant 
their  rice.  It  is  planted  in  small  patches,  very  close 
together,  in  rows  about  four  inches  apart,  on  irrigated 
land,  entirely  covered  by  water.  It  grows  about  six 
inches  high,  and  looks  like  our  chives.  The  land 
looks  like  a  crazy  quilt;  they  build  high  banks  around 
these  fields,  letting  the  water  in  and  out,  and  then 
they  stir  the  whole  thing  up  until  it  looks  like  a  mud 
pie,  and  plant  the  rice  by  hand,  standing  in  this  mud 
over  their  knees.  The  rice  remains  almost  covered 
with  water  for  three  months.  In  September  and 
October,  the  water  is  drained  off,  the  sun  dries  the 
stalks  like  wheat,  and  then  it  is  threshed  through  a 
crude  mill,  where  the  outer  coat  is  taken  off  the  rice. 
The  rice  crop  of  Japan  is  worth  two  million  dollars 
annually.  The  finest  rice  in  the  world  is  cultivated 
here.  The  natives  sell  the  good  rice,  and  import  a 
cheaper  grade  from  China  for  their  own  use. 

However,  the  tea  of  India  and  China  is  superior  to 
that  of  Japan.  Life  on  a  Japanese  farm  is  very  hard, 
as  everything  is  done  by  hand,  even  to  threshing  the 
wheat  by  hand  on  straw  mats. 

Mr.  Middleton  has  just  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Mr.  Frank  Pixley,  one  of  the  composers  of  the  "Prince 
of  Pilsen."  He  is  here  writing  a  play — a  charming 
spot  to  get  inspiration,  I  fancy. 

FUJIYAMA— JUNE  11 

We  are  sailing,  drifting  along  the  rocky  coast  of 
Japan,  and  behold  in  the  distance  the  famous  and 
beautiful  baby  mountain,  Fujiyama,  capped  with 


AROUND     THE     WORLD  79 

eternal  snow.     It  is  engraved,  painted,  embroidered 
and  carved  on  everything  one  sees. 

As  I  sit  here  on  deck,  dreaming,  writing,  thinking, 
on  this  glorious  summer  day,  I  make  peace  with  my 
heart  by  promising,  O,  land  of  poetry  and  flowers,  to 
some  day  be  your  devoted  dweller,  with  your  majestic 
green  forests,  your  cherry  trees,  your  gorgeous  carpet 
of  flowers,  your  fruits  and  vegetables  to  charm  the 
most  capricious  taste!  O,  Japan,  precious  land, 
balmy  land  of  peace  and  comfort ! 

ODE  TO  THE  OCEAN 

For  days — yes,  one  hundred  and  twenty  of  them, 
I  have  listened  to  your  eternal  swish,  swish,  swish! 
What  can  you  desire,  restless,  wonderful,  monstrous, 
trackless  plain,  as  you  roll  on  forever?  Surely  much 
of  this  earth's  territory  is  your  own — four-fifths,  they 
say,  so  why  do  you  toss  and  rage?  Tell  me,  I  pray 
you !  For  days  I  have  lived  thus,  hoping  to  know  you 
better,  to  fathom  the  mystery  you  conceal  in  your 
pearly  depths,  but,  alas,  you  only  appeal  to  me  in 
your  glorious  coloring  and  your  ceaseless  changes ! 

Lash  on,  silvery,  swirling  waves!  It  is  certain  you 
have  moved  thus  since  the  beginning  of  time.  May 
you  ever  continue  to  gladden  the  heart  of  the  weary 
traveler,  as  he  goes  on  his  way. 

We  are  resting,  gathering  our  things  together,  and 
looking  out  over  the  blue  Pacific,  on  this,  our  last  night 
in  Japan — this  trip.  For  we  hope  to  visit  this  land 
again.  Japan  and  its  shores  have  a  great  attrac- 
tion for  us  both— it  is  the  one  place  that  we  feel  that 
we  should  like  to  see  once  more.  The  sense  of  the 
beautiful  and  artistic  pervades  the  very  atmos- 
phere, and  fairly  carries  one  away.  The  people  have 
such  happy  faces ;  they  sing  so  merrily  all  day,  working 
all  the  while.  Busy,  happy  and  clean,  three  of  God's 
choicest  blessings. 

We  have  such  beautiful  sweet  peas  in  our  apartment 
— so  fragrant  and  so  pretty. 


80  ALINEADAY 

The  Chiyo-maru  (which  means  earth-boat)  is  a 
large,  new  vessel,  a  year  and  a  half  old.  The  crew  is 
Japanese,  with  an  American  captain,  whom  we  have 
named  "Splendid  Captain  Greene."  The  captain  has 
a  chow  dog,  which  is  always  wTith  him.  This  animal 
has  such  a  friendly  disposition  and  has  wagged  his 
tail  so  much  that  he  has  worn  all  the  hair  off  his  back. 

We  dance  in  the  evening.  The  boat  rolls  a  great 
deal,  but  the  dancers  do  not  seem  to  mind  that  in  the 
least.  We  had  a  very  heavy  fog  the  first  day  out, 
which  made  it  exceedingly  damp  and  disagreeable. 
I,  as  usual,  kept  to  my  berth,  to  my  intense  disgust. 
We  dine  at  the  Captain's  table,  and  we  have  most 
charming  table  companions — a  Reverend  and  Mrs. 
Brown,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harper  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fox. 
We  have  so  enjoyed  them  all.  They  are  all  of  Cali- 
fornia, and  are  ever  singing  the  beauties  of  that  state. 

Mr.  Middleton  plays  roulette.  The  Chinese  own 
the  wheel,  and  it  is  extremely  interesting  to  watch 
them  gamble.  We  have  a  Baron  on  board.  A  salute 
was  fired  in  his  honor  as  we  left  the  harbor  of 
Yokohama. 

The  weather  is  warm.  Each  day  this  tub  makes 
from  three  hundred  and  fifty  to  three  hundred  and 
eighty-five  miles.  We  will  reach  Honolulu  on  Satur- 
day— so  we  all  hope.  We  have  Japanese  deck  sports 
as  an  evening  entertainment:  wrestling,  singing  funny 
songs — wong-tong-hong-sing-song  affairs.  It  is  very 
enjoyable.  Fortunately,  passengers  on  ship  board  are 
quite  easily  amused — they  would  laugh  at  a  sardine. 
There  are  always  a  few  about  to  help  amuse.  Other 
deck  sports  are  potato  racing,  fencing  with  bamboo 
poles  for  swords,  tugs-of-war,  bag  races,  when  the 
contestants  hop  along  with  their  legs  tied  in  bags; 
spoon  and  egg  races,  when  they  run  about  the  deck 
with  a  table  spoon  with  an  egg  in  it;  when  any  one 
drops  the  egg  he  loses  the  race. 

We  spent  a  whole  day  at  these  deck  sports  and  the 
time  passed  quickly  and  pleasantly.  I  have  just 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  81 

about  read  my  eyes  out.  We  have  made  many  plans 
for  the  future.  Monday,  the  twenty-eighth,  is  forty- 
eight  hours  long.  We  crossed  the  meridian,  making 
two  Mondays.  It  is  so  that,  sailing  from  San 
Francisco,  one  loses  a  day,  and  returning  around  the 
world,  one  gains  a  day. 

We  have  so  many  lovely  people  on  board,  and 
plenty  of  all  sorts  of  games  and  sports.  Dancing  to 
phonograph  is  not  half  bad. 

It  has  certainly  been  a  long  ten  days,  and  I  am  eager 
for  the  land.  Everything  is  moving  just  the  same. 
Everybody  knows  everybody,  and  we  visit  and  chat. 
We  have  had  another  day  of  deck  sports,  in  which  the 
passengers  participated — lighting  cigarette  races,  tug 
o'  war,  shoe  races,  ladies'  whistling  races,  etc. 

We  woke  this  morning  to  see  land  at  last — 
Honolulu,  Hawaii.  We  were  to  land  at  ten-thirty, 
but  were  quarantined  just  outside  the  harbor,  as  we 
have  a  sick  Japanese  boy  on  board.  It  was  two-thirty 
when  we  went  ashore,  and  then  only  after  all  sorts  of 
rumors  had  circulated  to  the  effect  that  we  were  to  be 
quarantined  two  weeks. 

Honolulu  is  certainly  a  beautiful  spot.  We  took 
a  motor,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Honingsberg,  their  son 
and  maid  nurse,  and  went  all  over  the  city.  The  boule- 
vards are  lovely.  We  drove  through  pineapple 
groves,  sugar  cane  brakes,  and  rice  fields,  to  a  very 
fine  point,  where  we  had  a  wonderful  view  of  the 
surrounding  islands.  This  point  is  called  Piali.  The 
island  is  two  miles  wide  and  ninety  miles  long.  It  is 
summer  here,  but  one  always  has  cool,  refreshing 
breezes,  and  every  day  the  highlands  receive  a  few 
sprinkles  of  rain.  We  went  to  the  Manao  Hotel, 
where  the  people  go  surf  boating  and  bathing.  They 
rush  through  the  waves  in  small  canoes;  the  tide  and 
waves  dash  madly  over  them;  they  are  lost  to  sight — 
and  a  moment  later  they  come  up  again,  riding  the 
waves — a  most  thrilling  sight. 


82  ALINEADAY 

We  had  dinner  at  Young's  Hotel.  A  nice  hotel,  and 
an  excellent  dinner.  They  served  millet,  a  fish  caught 
in  these  waters,  and  a  true  delicacy;  prickly  pear 
salad;  chicken  paprika,  a  Hawaiian  dish  for  which 
they  are  famous  here,  and  delicious  pineapple  for 
dessert.  We  returned  to  the  vessel  to  sleep,  but 
intend  to  go  ashore  in  the  morning  for  a  while. 

JULY  2 

We  sail  at  eleven-thirty.  Early  in  the  morning  we 
take  a  walk  around  the  city.  Honolulu  is  a  quite 
up-to-date  American  city.  We  see  very  few  natives. 
The  women  wear  mother  hubbards.  Some  of  them 
are  fancy,  but  they  are  atrocious  things,  especially 
when  they  blow  up.  The  gong  is  calling  us  to  lunch. 
There  is  a  baseball  club  here.  A  number  of  players 
have  come  from  Japan  to  Honolulu  to  play  ball,  and 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  fuss  made  over  them. 

Our  next,  and  last  port  is  San  Francisco — Home! 


Home!  Blessed  word,  with  a  wealth  of  wonderful 
meaning!  WTherever  our  feet  may  wander,  strange  to 
say,  our  hearts  always  cling  to  that  loved  spot — 
Home!  The  chain  of  distance  sometimes  reaches  far, 
but  Fate,  kind  Fate,  keeps  the  precious  links  from 
breaking,  and  ere  we  know  it,  our  weary  footsteps  are 
once  more  turned  toward  home — our  native  land! 
It  is  best  so,  for  a  soul  without  the  fire  of  patriotism 
and  the  love  of  kindred  is  dead  and  lost! 

Ah,  it  is  life  to  feel  the  heart  beat,  and  the  blood 
surge  madly  through  each  pulse,  as  we  reach  our 
native  shore!  Poor,  indeed,  is  he  who  has  never  felt 
this  thrill,  on  returning  to  our  own,  our  very  own, 
our  native  land!  It  matters  not  whence  you  come — 
the  feeling  is  the  same.  Forever  let  me  live  and  dwell, 
contented,  in  my  own  dear  country !  Let  me  say,  and 
let  me  feel,  that  I  belong  to  America,  the  land  of  the 
free! 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  88 

FOURTH  OF  JULY  ON  BOARD  THE 
CHIYO-MARU 

The  sea  is  very  quiet.  We  had  an  exhibition  of 
daylight  fireworks  at  eleven  o'clock.  We  had  two 
addresses,  from  Reverend  Brown,  a  splendid  orator 
with  a  fine  voice,  and  the  Hon.  Robert  J.  Burdette. 
Mr.  Burdette  spoke  of  our  many  blessings,  and  of  the 
great  inventive  geniuses  of  the  day  and  their  dis- 
coveries and  exploits — the  aeroplane,  the  newest 
electrical  wonders,  wireless  cablegrams,  etc. 

Rev.  Brown  spoke  on  the  history  of  America,  her 
future,  and  her  political  disgraces.  A  young  lady, 
a  Miss  Plutt,  read  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 
We  all  sang  "My  Country,  'tis  of  Thee,"  and  the 
"Star  Spangled  Banner,"  and  with  flags  flying  gaily 
on  all  sides,  the  spirit  of  the  day  was  perfect,  espe- 
cially as  we  all  felt  that  we  were  nearing  home,  "the 
land  of  the  free  and  the  brave." 

For  our  Fourth  of  July  dinner  we  had  all  the 
delicacies  of  the  season,  including  a  Chiyo-maru  cake, 
which  was  a  fruit  cake,  artistically  decorated  in  red, 
white,  and  blue,  served  by  the  excellent  captain. 
Captain  Green  is,  without  a  doubt,  the  most  hospi- 
table and  courteous  of  captains  it  has  ever  been  our 
lot  to  meet.  We  shall  certainly  never  forget  him,  or 
his  faithful  Chow. 

"Chow"  is  Chinese  for  dog.  They  are  born  in 
Manchuria,  are  yellow  in  color,  and  very  shaggy. 
Some  of  them  are  black,  but  the  brown  ones  are  the 
best  breeds.  They  have  long  tails,  which  they  carry 
curled  over  their  backs  in  a  graceful  cue.  They  are 
one  man's  dog,  and  obey  only  the  one  master. 

Each  day  the  ocean  blue  looks  better  to  us,  as  we 
near  our  own  dear  shore.  We  are  busy  getting  our 
customs'  lists  ready;  everybody  else  is  doing  likewise. 
We  fear  we  will  have  to  go  into  quarantine  outside  of 
San  Francisco,  but  we  all  hope  for  the  best.  Tomorrow 
night,  Thursday,  we  will  send  mother  a  wireless  that 
we  are  well,  and  near  "our  own,  our  native  land." 


84  ALINEADAY 

FRIDAY— JULY  8 

We  were  a  long  time  landing,  but  it  was  enjoyable 
to  see  dear  old  San  Francisco,  built  at  the  foot,  and 
on  the  sides  of  a  range  of  young  mountains.  We 
entered  through  a  dense  fog,  and  missed  the  beautiful 
sight  of  the  Golden  Gate.  Our  captain  brought  the 
boat  in  alone.  He  could  not  see  to  pick  up  the  pilot. 
I  slept  in  my  clothing  all  night,  and  Mr.  Middleton 
was  very  anxious,  as  there  have  been  many  accidents 
on  this  coast,  in  sight  of  land — one  only  a  few  days 
before  we  arrived. 

Going  through  the  customs  was  the  experience  of  a 
lifetime — people  pushing  madly  every  which  way, 
everything  in  a  wild  confusion,  opening  trunks, 
hammering  boxes,  trunks  falling,  things  missing,  men 
swearing,  women  gasping  for  breath,  with  their  hats 
on  one  ear,  some  smiling,  some  complaining,  some 
putting  powder  on  in  the  midst  of  it  all. 

At  last  our  turn  came — the  passengers  were  taken 
in  alphabetical  order.  Two  inspectors  for  M  arrived 
to  go  through  our  boxes,  bags,  and  trunks,  seven  in 
number.  With  poor  Mr.  Middleton  hustling  in  every 
direction,  it  was  quite  an  exciting  time.  They  were 
all  very  kind  to  us.  Mr.  Middleton  was  so  gentle- 
manly and  honest  that  they  reduced  our  list  one-half. 
They  asked  where  we  were  from,  where  we  had  been, 
and  how  long.  We  carried  away  a  lasting  and  pleasant 
impression  of  the  customs  officers  of  the  Pacific  coast. 
They  did  their  duty  thoroughly,  but  in  a  genteel  way. 
However,  many  people  were  handled  much  more 
roughly  than  we  were. 

Oh,  the  joy  of  the  little  stickers  pasted  on  each 
article  that  set  us  free !  We  climbed  into  a  'bus  for  the 
Palace  Hotel.  When  we  left  the  customs  house  I  had 
all  the  boxes  and  bags  that  I  could  possibly  carry; 
Mr.  Middleton  was  loaded  heavily;  there  was  a  truck 
full  of  baggage,  and  another  man  loaded  down. 

As  we  left  the  building,  a  wonderfully  cool,  refresh- 
ing breeze  fanned  us — one  sweep  that  I  shall  never 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  85 

forget.  We  found  it  very  invigorating,  as  we  rolled 
on  to  the  Palace  Hotel,  our  new  home.  Great  tears 
stood  in  the  eyes  of  both  of  us,  mingled  joy  and 
sorrow.  It  seemed  so  strange  not  to  see  mother  when 
we  reached  this  side.  Our  mail  was  overwhelming; 
we  had  such  lovely  wires  and  letters  from  every  one 
we  knew,  welcoming  us  home. 

We  have  tried  to  rest  and  unpack,  resting  and 
working  each  day  in  turn.  It  is  so  delightfully  cool 
here  that  we  cannot  wear  our  summer  clothing.  We 
wear  two  overcoats  in  the  motor,  and  sleep  under  two 
pairs  of  blankets  each  night.  Time  passes  quietly  and 
pleasantly.  We  have  rented  a  motor  car  and  are 
going  to  visit  all  the  environs  of  San  Francisco. 

We  have  visited  Columbus,  San  Jose,  Palo  Alto, 
Del  Monte,  Monterey,  Santa  Cruz,  Clairemont, 
Berkeley,  Mt.  Tamaulipas  and  Santa  Clara.  Also 
the  huge  redwood  trees,  some  of  them  sixty-five 
feet  in  circumference  and  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
high.  It  is  a  wonderful  trip  among  these  glorious 
mountains  clothed  in  cedar  trees.  They  look  like 
Christmas  trees.  San  Juan  Hill  is  a  very  picturesque 
mountain.  The  climb  to  the  top  is  quite  an  exciting 
one,  and  the  view  from  the  summit  is  beautiful. 

This  is  a  wonderful  trip.  We  saw  numberless  fruit 
orchards,  peaches,  apricots,  pears,  plums,  luxuriant 
grapes,  and  berries  of  all  varieties.  Lovely  flowers 
and  clinging  vines,  and  myriads  of  roses,  each  variety 
more  beautiful  than  the  other. 

We  have  made  some  delightful  friends,  and  have  had 
some  lovely  home  dinners.  Western  hospitality 
certainly  is  not  lacking  in  any  way.  It  is  relative  to 
the  climate  and  natural  beauties.  The  lovely,  shady 
drives,  the  good  roads,  the  restful  beauty  of  the 
scenery,  and  our  contented  minds,  have  combined  to 
make  our  visit  here  a  soothing  balm  to  our  travel- 
fatigued  spirits. 

After  three  delightful  weeks,  we  are  packing  up  to 
move  on,  with  pleasant  memories  and  sincere  regrets. 


86  ALINEADAY 

AUGUST  3— SANTA  BARBARA,  THE  NICE 
OF  AMERICA 

We  are  journeying  through  the  Riviera  of  America, 
comprising  the  cities  of  Santa  Barbara,  Pasadena, 
Riverside,  and  Los  Angeles.  This  region  is  a  bower  of 
roses  at  this  time  of  year,  when  other  places  are  burned 
up  by  the  scorching  sun.  The  Potter  Hotel  is  a 
beautiful  place,  with  charming  grounds,  or  rather  a 
park,  surrounding  it.  Many  refined  people  abide 
here;  autos  are  continually  dashing  in  and  out,  golf 
players  coming  and  going,  and  horses  cantering  on  the 
excellent  roads.  One  can  hear  their  hoofs  in  the 
distance,  which  is  certainly  delightful  music.  The 
green,  velvety  lawn,  with  its  millions  of  brilliant 
scarlet  geraniums,  overlooking  the  blue  water,  is  a 
most  restful  sight  on  this  August  day,  when  all  the 
east  is  sweltering  in  the  heat.  The  mountains  seem 
almost  close  enough  to  touch. 

Santa  Barbara  is  thrice  blessed — nature  has  not 
only  been  generous,  but  man  and  money  have  mate- 
rially assisted  in  making  this  spot  as  perfect  as  a  place 
can  be.  Quietude  reigns  throughout  the  city,  and  the 
whole  place  gives  one  a  feeling  of  having  stepped  off 
the  world. 

We  are  about  to  depart  for  Los  Angeles  and 
Pasadena,  and  hope  to  find  them  as  charming  as  San 
Francisco  and  Santa  Barbara. 

We  are  off  for  Los  Angeles,  the  "City  of  Angels." 
However,  Mr.  Middleton  says  they  are  not  all  angels, 
by  any  means,  as  there  are  many  real  estate  men  there 
who  are  far  from  deserving  that  saintly  title.  It  is 
a  very  warm  day,  but  tempered  by  delightfully  cool 
breezes.  We  arrive  at  two-thirty  p.  m.,  and  go  to  the 
Hotel  Alexandria,  another  of  America's  modern 
homes  for  the  delectation  of  the  weary  globe  trotter, 
so  comfortable,  so  clean,  and  centrally  located.  Lovely 
people  coming  and  going  all  the  while. 

We  rent  a  motor  to  see  this  city  and  Pasadena,  and 
visit  the  residence  districts  and  all  the  suburban  towns. 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  87 

We  fall  in  love  with  a  charming  house  in  South 
Pasadena,  and  buy  it  within  five  days.  We  have 
worked  hard,  fitting  the  place  up  with  electric  lights, 
a  range,  and  changing  the  decorations,  but  we  are 
both  very  pleased  and  happy  with  the  thought  of  a 
home  here,  where  summer  is  eternal,  flowers  blooming 
always,  where  the  lovely  cool  breezes  from  the  sea 
embrace  the  breezes  of  the  mountains  for  our  comfort. 

We  are  off  to  the  east,  which  we  still  style  home,  to 
see  those  whom  we  love,  and  who  love  us.  We  will 
soon  arrive  in  Chicago — dear  old  dirty  city!  City 
where  my  dreams  of  happiness,  as  well  as  sorrows, 
were  born,  and  joys  at  last  completed.  Once  more 
we  will  behold  your  familiar  streets,  your  busy  shops 
and  corners,  your  parks,  and  travel  over  them  again, 
with  the  old  life  behind  us,  on  the  eve  of  a  new  life 
and  a  new  world. 

I  had  intended  to  keep  this  "line  a  day"  until 
I  reached  New  York,  but  alas,  that  day  is  now  far 
distant!  I  shall  end  now.  From  Chicago  we  will  go 
to  mother's,  which  chapter  shall  finish  our  trip  around 
the  world. 

AUGUST  22 

On  the  Los  Angeles  and  Salt  Lake,  bound  for 
Chicago. 


Addenda 


WATERLOO 

It  is  hard  to  realize,  as  one  contemplates  the  green, 
peaceful  plain  of  Mont  St.  Jean,  commonly  called 
the  plain  of  Waterloo,  that  on  a  sunny  Sunday  morn- 
ing, the  eighteenth  of  June,  1815,  two  mighty  armies 
stood  face  to  face ;  that  this  was  the  scene  of  a  clash  of 
giants,  whose  outcome  altered  the  map  of  Europe. 

Here  is  the  farm  house  of  La  Belle  Alliance,  the 
Emperor's  headquarters ;  there  the  monument  marking 
the  spot  where  the  Imperial  Guard,  under  the  gallant 
Marechal  Ney,  made  its  last  heroic  stand;  the  plateau 
of  Mont  St.  Jean,  held  by  the  English  forces,  they  had 
the  advantage  of  an  elevated  position,  and  half  way 
down  the  slope,  the  sunken  road  of  Ohain — a  grave, 
because,  at  a  decisive  moment,  when  Napoleon 
perceived  that  Wellington  had  fallen  back,  he  decided 
to  complete  the  repulse  by  a  crushing  charge,  and 
ordered  the  cuirassiers  of  the  guard,  the  flower  of  his 
army,  to  carry  the  plateau  of  Mont  St.  Jean.  The 
sunken  road  did  not  make  a  wrinkle  on  the  surface  of 
the  slope,  and  when  the  Emperor  questioned  the 
peasant  guide  regarding  any  obstructions  that  might 
impede  their  progress,  received  the  answer:  "No." 
It  may  almost  be  said  that  from  that  shake  of  a 
peasant's  head  came  the  catastrophe  of  Napoleon. 

The  mighty  force  advanced  to  the  very  brink  of  the 
precipice — the  leaders  reared  back  with  a  dreadful 
clamor;  in  vain!  The  irresistible  force  from  behind 
pushed  horses  and  riders  into  a  common  grave;  when 
it  was  full  of  living  men,  the  rest  rode  over  them  and 
passed  on.  Although  reduced  by  a  third,  the  remain- 
ing forces  fought  with  the  frenzy  of  despair;  but  the 
arrival  of  the  Prussians  under  Blucher,  at  nightfall, 
decided  the  battle.  It  was  a  crushing  defeat,  followed 
by  a  pitiless  route.  The  eagle  of  France  was  humbled 


90  A    LINE    A    D  AY 

to  the  dust.  What  must  have  been  the  thoughts  of 
the  fallen  colossus,  as,  haggard  and  gloomy,  he  took 
the  road  to  France  in  the  gathering  darkness,  with  the 
shattered  remnant  of  that  once  invincible  army? 


VERSAILLES 

This  beautiful  residence  of  the  royal  family  of 
France  is  situated  about  ten  miles  from  Paris,  in  the 
midst  of  an  extensive  plain.  Until  the  middle  of  the 
Seventeenth  century  it  was  only  a  small  village,  but 
at  that  time  Louis  XIV  determined  to  build  on  this 
spot  a  residence  worthy  of  the  grandeur  of  his  throne. 
Seven  years  and  something  like  one  hundred  million 
dollars  were  spent  in  completing  the  palace,  garden 
and  park.  Nothing  was  spared  by  him  or  his  suc- 
cessors to  make  it  the  most  magnificent  residence  of 
Europe.  Here  are  reservoirs,  fountains,  gardens, 
groves,  conservatories,  an  orangery,  cascades,  and 
every  embellishment  that  taste,  skill  and  money  could 
devise. 

The  front  of  the  palace  is  of  polished  stone,  orna- 
mented with  statues,  and  is  approached  by  three 
magnificent  avenues,  shaded  by  stately  trees,  leading 
from  Paris,  Versailles,  and  St.  Cloud.  Connected  with 
the  main  edifice  are  some  fifteen  projecting  buildings, 
making  almost  a  small  city  in  itself.  Eight  thousand 
people  were  often  accommodated  here  at  one  time. 

Noted  gardeners,  engineers,  and  architects  were 
employed  in  the  construction  of  the  beautiful  park, 
with  its  spacious  walks,  velvety  lawns,  stately  trees, 
and  some  of  the  most  handsome  and  costly  fountains 
to  be  seen  anywhere.  Some  of  the  statuary 
distributed  through  the  parks,  and  decorating  the 
fountains,  are  masterpieces  in  themselves. 

The  interior  is  worthy  of  this  enchanting  park.  The 
grand  salons,  with  their  rich  gilding,  and  superb 
painting  have  almost  all  been  restored  to  their  original 
splendor.  The  palace  has  been  converted  into  a 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  91 

museum  of  French  History,  and  many  galleries  are 
filled  entirely  with  paintings  depicting  great  events 
in  the  varied  and  interesting  history  of  France,  while 
the  apartments,  rich  in  historical  associations,  are  a 
lesson  in  themselves. 

One  sees  the  charming  white  and  gold  room,  once 
occupied  by  the  ill-fated  Marie  Antoinette,  and  the 
little  recess  adjoining  it,  where  the  Queen  granted 
private  audiences,  and  where  Gluck  and  other  musi- 
cians whom  she  patronized,  performed  for  her  delecta- 
tion. Also  the  staircase  by  which  she  fled  when  the 
mob  invaded  the  palace  in  1789 — the  beginning  of  the 
end  of  French  royalty.  The  Hall  of  the  Oeil  de  Boeuf, 
so  called  from  the  striking  oval-shaped  window,  was 
the  ante-room  to  the  king's  apartments,  where  the 
courtiers  assembled  awaiting  an  audience.  The 
Clock  Room  is  so  called  from  the  time-piece  placed 
here  in  1749,  which  is  a  marvel  of  mechanism,  showing 
the  days,  months,  phases  of  the  moon,  etc.  The  case 
is  of  wrought  bronze.  The  admirably  furnished  and 
decorated  private  study  of  Louis  XV,  from  one  of  the 
windows  of  which  he  watched  the  funeral  procession  of 
his  mistress,  Mme.  de  Pompadour.  In  the  gorgeous 
Hall  of  the  Council  some  of  the  most  important  affairs 
of  State  of  the  Eighteenth  century  were  decided, 
and  also  the  "Presentation"  ceremony  of  ladies 
newly  admitted  to  the  court.  The  grand  gallery  of 
mirrors,  where  seventeen  immense  windows  overlook 
the  park,  and  seventeen  corresponding  mirrors  on  the 
opposite  wall,  joined  with  wrought  copper.  In  the 
time  of  Louis  XIV  it  possessed  two  beautiful  carpets  of 
Savonnerie,  and  curtains  of  damask  and  gold  brocade, 
sumptuous  furniture,  and  bowls,  vases,  candelabra, 
and  orange  boxes  of  silver,  fashioned  by  the  most 
skilled  artisans. 

Within  the  precincts  of  the  park  are  the  Grand  and 
Petit  Trianon,  the  first  built  during  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV,  and  the  latter  erected  by  Louis  XV  for  Madame 
du  Barri.  But  it  is  more  closely  associated  with 


92  ALINEADAY 

Marie  Antoinette,  who  had  a  charming  English  garden 
laid  out,  and  frequently  came  to  this  spot  with  a  few 
dear  friends  to  lead  a  quiet  rural  life,  in  the  simplicity 
she  so  loved,  away  from  the  pomp  and  trying  etiquette 
of  the  Court. 


MALMAISON 

The  chateau  of  Malmaison,  in  the  vicinity  of  Paris, 
was  purchased  by  the  Empress  Josephine,  then 
Madame  Bonaparte,  for  the  sum  of  one  hundred  and 
sixty  thousand  francs,  in  April,  1799.  Subsequently, 
the  grounds  were  enlarged,  the  interior  altered  and 
redecorated  at  an  enormous  expense,  with  the  result 
that  Malmaison  became  a  charming  retreat,  where 
the  illustrious  owners  passed  some  of  the  happiest 
hours  of  their  checkered  and  brilliant  career. 

Marie  Josephe-Rose  Tascher  de  la  Pagerie  was 
a  Creole,  a  native  of  Martinique.  At  an  early  age  she 
became  the  wife  of  the  Vicomte  de  Beauharnais,  and 
the  mother  of  two  children,  Eugene,  the  Viceroy  of 
Italy,  and  Hortense,  future  queen  of  Holland.  At 
the  death  of  her  husband,  during  the  revolution, 
and  her  own  narrow  escape  from  a  similar  fate,  she 
found  herself  in  dire  straits.  After  the  attack  on  the 
then  ruling  Convention,  the  populace  had  been  dis- 
armed by  order  of  the  city  authorities.  Madame 
Beauharnais,  however,  sent  her  son  to  General 
Bonaparte,  to  beg  that  the  sword  of  his  father  might 
be  restored  to  them.  The  request  was  granted: 
a  meeting  and  introduction  between  the  Widow 
Beauharnais  and  the  rising  young  soldier  soon  fol- 
lowed. To  the  Corsican,  accustomed  to  the 
atmosphere  of  the  barracks,  and  the  society  of 
grisettes,  the  languishing  Creole,  with  her  charming 
manners,  was  indeed  a  grande  dame.  He  was  fas- 
cinated, violently  enamoured:  as  her  position  was 
more  than  uncertain,  and  as  the  rising  young  general 
had  just  been  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  Army 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  93 

of  Italy,  and  had  either  death  or  glory  before  him, 
she  accepted  his  offer  of  marriage.  They  were 
wedded  March  9,  1796;  Napoleon  departed  for  Italy 
two  days  later.  Every  day  during  the  strenuous 
campaign  he  sent  a  passionate  letter  to  his  bride, 
sometimes  only  a  note  scrawled  without  leaving  his 
saddle.  Josephine,  in  a  swirl  of  gaiety,  surrounded  by 
flatterers  and  admirers,  laughingly  exhibited  these 
missives  to  her  friends,  with  the  remark:  "Bonaparte 
is  so  queer."  During  his  absence  in  Egypt  she  was 
notoriously  unfaithful  to  him,  the  recipient  of  her 
favors  being  a  fascinating  young  aide-de-camp,  by 
name  Hy polite  Charles.  It  was  later  that  she  realized 
the  wisdom  of  devoting  herself  to  the  practise  of 
conjugal  fidelity,  when  "ma  bonne  Josephine" 
studiously  developed  all  the  estimable  qualities  which 
she  knew  were  requisite  to  the  happiness  of  her 
husband. 

Josephine's  ruling  passion  was  botany.  In  her 
gardens  and  conservatories  she  had  an  unrivaled 
collection  of  rare  and  beautiful  plants,  and  introduced 
about  one  hundred  and  eighty  species  hitherto 
unknown  in  Europe.  Bridges,  artificial  rocks,  groves, 
cascades,  fountains  and  lakes  embellished  the  parks. 
Rare  black  swans  glided  about  on  the  rippling  streams ; 
a  collection  of  beautiful  tame  animals  animated  the 
scene,  the  jewel  of  the  assembly  being  an  orang- 
outang, dressed  in  the  extreme  of  fashion,  happy  only 
when  sitting  down  to  table  with  his  mistress. 

The  indolent  Creole  led  a  life  of  delightful  ease. 
She  changed  her  costume  five  or  six  times  a  day; 
at  one  time  her  wardrobe  contained  six  hundred 
dresses.  While  not  pretty,  and  having  bad  teeth, 
which  were  a  constant  source  of  mortification,  she  was 
remarkably  graceful,  dressed  with  exquisite  taste,  and 
possessed  an  irresistible  charm  of  manner  that  won  all 
hearts.  Always  kind  hearted,  she  dispensed  immense 
sums  in  charity. 

Here  the  First  Consul  laid  aside  the  robe  of  state, 


94  ALINEADAY 

and  played  at  blind  man's  buff  and  prisoner's  base 
on  the  green  lawns  with  the  gay  crowd  that  Josephine 
loved  to  assemble.  The  leading  spirits  were  Eugene, 
and  Josephine's  daughter,  Hortense,  afterwards 
wedded  to  Napoleon's  brother,  Louis,  and  the  mother 
of  Napoleon  III.  To  the  end  Josephine  was  followed 
by  the  inveterate  hatred  of  Napoleon's  brothers  and 
sisters,  who  seemed  to  regard  her  as  an  interloper  who 
was  depriving  them  of  their  legitimate  property. 

Here  the  ex-empress  retired  after  the  divorce  in 
1809,  and  for  a  time  lived  quietly  among  her  beloved 
flowers,  and  surrounded  by  a  congenial  circle  of 
friends.  She  received  several  visits  from  the  Emperor, 
who  sometimes  brought  the  little  King  of  Rome,  his 
son  by  the  Archduchess  Marie  Louise,  of  Austria. 

When  the  allies  invaded  France,  in  1814,  and 
appeared  in  the  vicinity  of  Malmaison  after  the  fall 
of  Paris,  and  the  banishment  of  Napoleon  to  Elba, 
she  fled  to  one  of  the  other  retreats  given  her  by  the 
Emperor.  But  the  conquerors  summoned  her  back, 
and  once  more  she  was  the  center  of  a  charmed  circle. 
On  the  twenty-third  of  May,  1814,  she  contracted 
a  severe  cold,  while  attending  a  function  in  honor  of 
the  King  of  Prussia,  and  the  Emperors  of  Russia  and 
Austria.  She  became  steadily  worse,  and  breathed 
her  last  on  the  twenty-ninth.  Her  last  words  were 
"He  d'Elbe— Napoleon!" 

She  reposes  under  a  monument  in  the  little  church 
of  Rueil,  where  she  is  represented  kneeling  in  her 
coronation  robes.  The  tomb  was  erected  by  the 
devoted  Hortense  and  Eugene. 

Here  the  fallen  Emperor  passed  a  short  time  in  1815, 
between  the  crushing  defeat  at  Waterloo  and  his 
final  departure — to  exile  and  death.  He  wandered 
through  the  domains  where  he  had  spent  so  many 
happy  hours,  and  lingered  alone  for  a  time  in  the 
apartment  where  Josephine  passed  away  thirteen 
months  before.  Descending,  he  bade  farewell  to 
Hortense — one  of  the  few  who  had  remained  faithful, 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  95 

and  his  eldest  brother,  Joseph,  and  wended  his  way 
by  the  council  room,  the  dining  room,  vestibule  and 
drawbridge,  to  the  south  gate,  where  a  simple  carriage 
waited,  cast  one  last  look  at  Malmaison,  sprang  into 
the  coach,  which  rapidly  disappeared  in  the  forest. 
Here  is  a  stone,  which  formerly  bore  the  traces  of 
a  footstep  and  a  bronze  eagle,  and  the  inscription : 

The  last  footprint  of  Napoleon 

leaving  for  Rochefort 

on  June  29,  1815, 

at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 

The  rooms  of  the  chateau  are  elegantly  and  taste- 
fully furnished.  In  the  handsome  drawing  room,  in 
white,  green,  and  gold,  is  the  marble  mantelpiece 
presented  to  Josephine  by  Pius  VIII,  at  the  time  of 
the  coronation,  in  1804,  on  which  is  a  handsome 
marble  bust  of  the  Empress;  a  number  of  beautiful 
pieces  of  Sevres  porcelain;  the  mahogany  card  table 
of  the  Empress,  and  her  embroidery  frame  and  work 
table,  two  commodities  which  she  seldom  used.  It 
was  in  this  room  that  the  captivating  Josephine  gave 
her  numerous  soirees. 

In  the  bathroom  is  the  dressing  case  of  the  Empress, 
with  a  complete  toilette  set  in  gilt  and  mother  of 
pearl,  and  a  miniature  of  the  Emperor.  The  case  is  of 
yew- wood,  mahogany,  and  hollywood,  with  ornaments 
of  steel,  and  was  given  to  her  by  the  City  of  Paris 
on  the  occasion  of  her  coronation. 

The  Emperor's  apartment,  hung  in  gray,  is 
unfurnished. 

The  bedroom  of  the  Empress  is  draped  in  red;  the 
India  muslin  curtains  of  the  carved  wood  bed  are 
worked  in  gold.  Here  one  sees  the  elegant  lavabo 
of  mahogany,  with  water  jug  and  hand  basin  of 
Sevres  porcelain  in  blue  and  gold;  a  round  mahogany 
table  with  a  top  of  red  porphyry,  enclosed  in  bronze; 
a  small  writing  table  of  mahogany  and  gray  maple, 
inlaid  with  black  wood  and  pewter,  with  initials  J.  B. ; 
a  writing  desk,  surmounted  by  a  tiny  bronze  statue  in 


96  ALINE     A     DAY 

antique  green;  on  the  white  marble  mantelpiece  are 
several  beautiful  marble  and  porcelain  ornaments; 
before  the  fireplace  is  a  magnificent  fire  screen,  sup- 
posed by  some  to  have  been  embroidered  by 
Josephine;  by  others  it  is  thought  to  be  the  work  of 
the  pupils  of  St.  Cyr;  a  vase,  with  a  bouquet  of 
colored  flowers,  and  a  bird  on  either  side,  are  em- 
broidered on  a  ground  of  white  satin;  two  couches  and 
six  armchairs,  in  gilded  wood,  tapestried  in  red 
cloth,  ornamented  with  the  letter  J  in  gold  embroidery : 
at  the  head  of  the  bed,  concealed  beneath  the  hangings, 
is  the  door  of  the  chest  where  Josephine  kept  her 
money  and  splendid  collection  of  jewels. 

In  the  concert  room,  not  yet  refurnished,  is  the  harp 
once  used  by  the  Empress,  although  it  is  said  that  she 
only  played  one  simple  air,  learned  with  difficulty. 
In  the  library,  used  by  Napoleon  as  his  private  study, 
is  his  mahogany  bureau,  a  green  velvet  armchair 
worn  out  by  continued  use,  and  a  curious,  boat- 
shaped  piece  of  furniture,  with  cleverly  concealed 
openings,  where  the  Emperor  kept  his  private  papers. 
In  the  dining  room  is  the  magnificent  silver  gilt  service 
presented  to  the  Emperor  on  the  occasion  of  his 
coronation,  by  the  City  of  Paris.  It  numbers  twenty- 
six  pieces,  and  was  first  used  at  the  Imperial  banquet 
at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  in  1804. 


FONTAINEBLEAU 

Few  buildings  in  France  appeal  to  the  romantic  and 
historical  imagination  as  does  the  beautiful  palace  of 
Fontainebleau,  in  the  magnificent  forest  of  the  same 
name,  where  formerly  the  splendid  royal  hunts  were 
held.  Here  poplars,  chestnuts,  maple,  larch,  birch, 
oaks  and  junipers  flourish  in  abundance. 

Much  of  the  beauty  of  the  interior  is  owing  to  the 
gallant  King  Francis  I,  who  gloried  in  patronizing  all 
of  the  most  noted  artists  of  the  day — Leonardo  de 
Vinci,  Andrea  del  Sarto,  and  the  Florentine  goldsmith, 


AROUND    THE    WORLD  97 

Benvenuto  Cellini.  Here  are  many  mementoes  of  the 
lovely  Diana  de  Poitiers,  who  bewitched  two  monarchs 
— Francis  I  and  Henri  II.  The  envious  even 
attributed  this  charm  to  sorcery. 

Catherine  de  Medici,  wife  of  Henri  II,  brought  a 
taste  for  the  beautiful  and  a  passion  for  building  from 
her  native  Florence,  and  aided  much  in  embellishing 
the  palace. 

The  chapel,  the  scene  of  so  many  noted  royal  mar- 
riages and  baptisms,  was  built  by  Henri  IV,  of  beloved 
memory.  It  is  said  that  the  Spanish  ambassador  once 
made  a  sarcastic  comment  on  the  mean  appearance  of 
the  original  building,  and  Henri,  with  his  ever  ready 
wit,  retorted :  "  The  French  do  not,  like  the  Spaniards, 
confine  God  between  four  walls  only;  He  is  enshrined 
in  their  hearts  as  well."  But  the  taunt  had  its  effect 
and  the  present  chapel  is  the  result. 

Here  the  terrible  Madame  de  Maintenon  reigned 
in  gloomy  splendor,  secretly  married  to  Louis  XIV, 
who  was  as  wax  in  her  hands  of  steel;  this  was  the 
refuge  of  Marie  Henriette,  the  widow  of  Charles  I, 
of  England,  and  the  scene  of  a  tragedy  that  startled 
Europe,  when  the  eccentric  Queen  Christina,  of 
Sweden,  had  her  chamberlain,  Monaldeschi,  wantonly 
murdered  in  one  of  the  galleries,  for  having,  as  she 
said,  shown  some  of  her  letters.  She  sent  Cardinal 
Mazarin  a  very  saucy  letter,  when  that  dignitary  dared 
to  remonstrate  with  her,  in  the  name  of  his  royal 
master. 

On  this  scene  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour  reigned 
as  the  uncrowned  queen  of  France.  She  was  a  splendid 
equestrienne,  and  first  attracted  the  notice  of  Louis 
XV,  as  she  was  speeding  through  the  neighboring 
woods,  in  a  velvet  riding  habit  of  a  brilliant  blue 
known  as  1'oeil  de  roi,  but  later  called  bleu  Pompadour. 
Greedy,  ambitious,  unscrupulous,  and  cruel  she  was 
nevertheless  a  woman  of  talent  and  ability.  It  was 
she  who  first  encouraged  and  took  under  the  royal 


98  ALINEADAY 

patronage  the  famous  Sevres  porcelain  and  Gobelin 
tapestry  works. 

She  was  succeeded  in  time  by  the  light-hearted  and 
pleasure-loving  Madame  du  Barri,  who,  with  all  her 
extravagance  and  folly,  never  meddled  with  politics, 
nor  caused  a  person  to  be  sent  to  the  Bastile,  like  her 
haughty  predecessor.  At  Luciennes,  the  little  retreat 
given  this  charming  courtesan  by  her  royal  admirer,  is 
seen  the  tiny  kitchen,  where  Louis,  the  "bien  aime," 
delighted  to  prepare  her  chocolate  with  his  own  hands, 
and  serve  it  in  the  dainty  boudoir  where  cardinals  and 
high  dignitaries  of  the  realm  contended  for  the  honor 
of  putting  the  slipper  on  the  little  white  foot  of  Marie 
Jeanne  Vaubernier,  erstwhile  milliner's  apprentice. 

But  to  return  to  Fontainebleau.  The  lovely 
boudoir  of  Marie  Antoinette  is  a  model  of  the  artistic 
skill  of  that  age.  The  palace  was  a  favorite  residence 
of  the  first  Napoleon.  Here  he  held  Charles  IV  of 
Spain  a  prisoner  for  a  short  time  in  1808;  and  in  1812, 
having  quarried  with  Pope  Pius  VII,  and  annexed 
the  Roman  States,  he  seized  him  and  detained  him  at 
Fontainebleau  until  1814. 

In  the  same  year,  when  the  allied  armies  captured 
Paris,  he  retired  to  this  memorable  scene  of  his 
former  grandeur.  One  sees  the  room,  and  the  table 
on  which  he  wrote  his  abdication  from  the  throne  of 
France,  and  where  he  later  made  a  futile  attempt  to 
end  his  life.  Also  the  Cour  des  Adieux,  where,  on 
April  20,  1814,  after  a  touching  farewell  to  his  Old 
Guard,  he  left  Fontainebleau  for  the  last  time,  on  his 
way  to  Elba. 


